


Oh Baby Let Me In

by jonwalker



Category: Frank Iero - Fandom, Gerard Way - Fandom, My Chemical Romance, frerard - Fandom, male slash - Fandom
Genre: Fanfiction, Frerard, M/M, MCR, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 54,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonwalker/pseuds/jonwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To put it short, I can't talk to anyone. Anyone that I'm not very close too, like teachers or the mail man. I try. I really do. I want to be able to talk to people, to hold a conversation, but I just can't. Nothing comes out of my mouth, no matter how hard I try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frank

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizzicleromance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzicleromance/gifts).



December 12th, 1999  
 **Friday;afternoon**

_shes mad at me again. i really dont know why, i mean, this happens all the time. nothing new. i suppose she just figures that, because shes my mom that ill talk to her about everything. and sometimes, when i just cannot talk, she freaks out on me. [b]its not my fault.[/b] does she think that i want to be like this? constantly getting asked to answer questions or just hold down a single conversation, and nothing comes out? i dont want to be like this! but no matter how much i bitch and complain, nothing is going to change. i want so badly for it **to** change, but i know it wont. ugh. i need to see mikey.  
frank_

I closed my 'diary', as my mom calls it and tucked it between the two mattresses on my bed. She thinks I need to get all my emotions out in this stupid book, because I can't any other way.

I have Selective Mutism.

From all the articles I've read in books up at the library, and the articles on the internet, this _disorder_ only seems to effect small kids, you know. Seven, eight year olds.

_Selective Mutism is characterized by a child's inability to speak in one or more types of social situation, although the child is developmentally advanced to the point that speech is possible. The child speaks proficiently in at least one setting, most often at home with one or both parents, and sometimes with siblings or extended family members. Some children also speak to certain friends or to adults that are not related to them, but this variant of selective Mutism is somewhat less common._

To put it short, I can't talk to anyone. Anyone that I'm not very close too, like teachers or the mail man. I try. I really do. I _want_ to be able to talk to people, to hold a conversation, but I just can't. Nothing comes out of my mouth, no matter how hard I try.

I'm eighteen years old now, and have had this _disorder_ since I can remember. The doctors always said that it would 'go away eventually.' That I would 'be normal' eventually.

To 'just give it time.'

They don't know what's wrong with me. Or better yet, they don't know what to do with me. We've tried everything imaginable to treat my 'disorder', and yet nothing has worked. The medicine, the therapists. Nothing.

I've tried to put two and two together, and from what I've been reading on the internet lately, my Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder connects to my mutism.

_Selective Mutism is frequently attributed at present to high levels of social anxiety in children and not to traumatic events in their early years. Children with selective mutism have been found to be more timid and shy than most children in social situations, and to exhibit signs of depression, **obsessive-compulsive disorder** , and anxiety disorders._

Every little thing in my house is perfect; in my eyes at least. I am constantly cleaning everything and anything, moving objects here and there, putting them where they are _supposed_ to be.

Mom just thinks that I enjoy cleaning and has never even let the doctors know about it. I don't talk to the doctors, and they never ask what's going on with me. I'm not slow by any means, but they think that just because I don't talk to them that it means that I can't communicate at all. It's called a pen and paper.

My mom, when I was little, used to treat me like a princess. Yes, a princess, you heard me correctly. She would do whatever I wanted or needed on the spot and would never ask questions. She was one of the only people I spoke to, and I figured she felt special because of that.

When you grow up, you stray away from your parents, you know, becoming a snot nosed teenager like the rest of 'em. I'll admit, I was a bit of a brat, but that only started when I was about ten; when my dad left. She paid more attention to her situation then mine, and it hurt. I would lay on the guilt trip of me being 'special' and not having any friends besides her.

I was basically the reason my folks split in the first place; me and my problems. But I suppose that's not too important. He's gone and not around to bother me and my mom anymore, and that's all the matters now.

I pushed myself off of my small, twin sized bed. I really needed a new one. I _am_ quite short, but not short enough for this bed, mind you.

Quickly spinning around, I straightened out the stripped comforter, lining up the vertical lines on the bed spread to the vertical ones on my wall.

I made my way around the end of my bed, straightening out the rug that was stationed in front of my door before sitting myself down in front of my computer.

It was already on, as it always is. I clicked on the MSN messenger button and waited for it to load up and sign me in. Damn dial-up.

I straightened the few papers that lay on the desk, mostly school papers. Or at least the half way decent ones. Everything I wrote down needed to be perfect; the size of my words, the neatness. Everything. It stressed me out beyond belief most of the time, and that was the only way I could communicate with people. By writing things down. My mom thought that writing in a journal would help my stress level some, but I think it made it worse. More than half the pages in that damn book were missing because of varies reasons, and it had only been about two weeks since I had gotten my new book.

Sometimes I just want to rip my hair out.

My buddy list finally popped up, the only person that was actually on the list was _currently online_.

Well, it _was_ Friday, and he knows we always do stuff on Fridays.

I smiled as I double clicked on his name, bringing up a box, and I began typing.

**frank-ayIERO** : mikeyyy... i need to get out of this house, NOW.  
 **thatsMR.waytoyou!** : frankkkk...whats up now?  
 **frank-ayIERO** : ugh. moms mad at me again.  
 **thatsMR.waytoyou!** : well i figured that. i meant _why_ is she mad now?  
 **frank-ayIERO** : mr. hunters sub sent me out today. she wrote me up saying i was 'unresponsive' when spoken to--err something to that matter.  
 **frank-ayIERO** : and principal anderson was all 'i dont want to go through with this--blahblahblah' but she said because ive been sent out more that five times in the last two months that i should actually get in trouble this time.  
 **thatsMR.waytoyou!** : thats fucking stupid. she knows that you cant help it! i mean--  
 **thatsMR.waytoyou!** : this is just--retarted.  
 **frank-ayIERO** : mhhm. i know. he called my mom and she grounded me from going to my art classes for a month. it sucks so bad..  
 **thatsMR.waytoyou!** : what the fuck? she grounded you for not talking--even when she, of _all_ people know that you cant?!  
 **thatsMR.waytoyou!** : well that just upset me greatly  
 **frank-ayIERO** : im sorry mikey..  
 **thatsMR.waytoyou!** : no dude, dont. its all good. come over now, and then my life will be complete once again!  
 **frank-ayIERO** : sometimes mikey, i believe you are a woman.  
 **thatsMR.waytoyou!** : shut it _princess_ frankie.  
 **frank-ayIERO** : your an ass.  
 **frank-ayIERO** _signed off at 3:46p.m._

Mikey has been my best friend since the end of our sophomore year. I'd never had any friends before him; I did happen to be the weird kid that sat in the back of the class room, never talking to any of the other kids.

All Mikey did was corner me one day, in our English class, I remember, but the _way_ he did was what made him special to me. He didn’t come and begin questioning me about why I never spoke or why I didn’t have any friends, no. He came over, pulled out his notebook and wrote one simple line.

_Hey. I'm Mikey. Movie marathon tonight, you in?_

That Friday night tradition of movies, candy and junk food has been going on ever since that day for almost two years, and that is why he is one of the two people in this whole fucking world that I can actually _talk_ to. 


	2. Gerard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #2!

December 12th, 1999   
**Friday;afternoon**

Oh thank God.

College is _finally_ over.

Well, technically, it was over two days ago, but I stuck around a few more days to finish up a few drawings. Mr. Peters loved one that I had started--my 'spare time' project if you will, and asked to see it when it was finally done. It started off being a very detailed drawing of a dark and creepy cemetery, what I do best, but Mr. Peters wanted me to put most of my focus onto how the trees looked. Which basically meant to draw _a lot_ more.

And right now I think if I had to draw one more of those, I would slam my head into the closest wall.

But I don't think I have ever been **this** excited to go home and see my mommy. Yeah, that might sound a bit childish, but come on. I haven't seen her in three months! I miss her cooking; her lasagna to be exact.

My mouth began to water as I thought about that wonderful dish that I've been craving a lot lately and let my key slip into the key hole, twisting the knob to the right to let myself into my dorm.

The smile that had just spread across my face was knocked off as I stepped inside the small room, and slammed my foot directly into the dresser.

"SHIT! Oww, fuck. Motherfucker, goddamn it," I cursed, slamming the door shut, hobbling over to the small twin bed against the far wall, slipping off my coat and throwing it and my bag on the chair that sat next to the window.

I hate dorm beds. I mean, I haven't fit into a twin sized bed since I was in sixth grade. If they just made these damn rooms **bigger** , maybe we could have bigger beds.

Just a thought.

I winced as I slipped off my black and white checkered vans from both feet, crossing my left leg over my right knee. The end of my pants were soaking wet, the snow outside the main cause.

I hate snow, the cold and Christmas music. Three of the main things presented in the month of December. My car hated it too. It was old enough as it is, and Mother Nature wasn't helping one bit.

I slipped off my sock and groaned as I saw the side of my foot glowing red. "Great."

I moved around my toes a bit, reaching over to my side table drawer to hit the play button on my small stereo. Billie Joe Armstrong's voice spilled out of the speakers as I stood up, limping over to the small closet next to the door, singing along as I did so.

_I'm taking all you down with me_  
Explosives duct taped to my spine  
Nothings gonna change my mind  
I won't listen to anyone's last words  
There's nothing left for you to say  
Soon you'll be dead anyway 

The door squeaked as I pushed them apart, the wheels on the bottom of each one needing to be oiled **really** bad. My foot was still bothering me, but my stupid grin came back onto my face as I pulled out my suitcase and duffel bag.

I get to go home.

I think what made be the most excited, other than my mommy's delicious food, is getting to see my brother again. Fuck, did I miss him.

I laughed. I'm twenty one years old, getting all giddy about seeing my baby brother and referring to my mother as 'mommy'.

I've been locked in this room for way too long.

Throwing the bags onto my bed, I ripped both of them open and began to, as neatly as possible, 'fold' all of my clothes hanging in the closet and shove them into the huge suitcase.

I have too many pairs of pants, and not enough shirts. Most of the suitcase was littered with my grey and black jeans, the only color pants I _ever_ buy, and the rest of the bag was band shirts.

I need to go shopping.

The closet door made a whole bunch of noise as I closed them, absolutely positive that everything was out of there and put somewhere in my bag. I quickly glanced at the clock before pulling my socks and boxers out of the drawers in my desk. Yeah, my desk. There wasn't enough room for a dresser in here, if you can believe that.

Please note my sarcasm.

**2:53p.m**

It'll only take me about three hours to get from where I was in New York back home in Jersey.

I'll make it home for dinner!

I laughed. I sounded like a dork.

The floor needed to be vacuumed _really_ badly, but I didn't have time. Or rather, I didn't give a shit at this point and time.

Most of my art supplies were already in my bag I carried around with me all the time; mainly to class. But my desk was covered in papers, some drawn on and some not. Pencils, markers and even paints were scattered all over the table top; some leaking out and staining the hard wood.

I shrugged and laughed. The thing was a light, beige, and really needed some color anyways.

I stacked up all the paper as best as I could and set the stack in the bottom of the duffel bag, throwing in the many pencils, brushes and little paint containers I could peel off the wood in also.

The room was searched through and through, anything valuable put into one of the bags, wherever it would fit.

Soon enough, the room was rid of anything of mine, I threw on my coat and headed out. I made sure to give my keys to my dorm adviser, bidding him farewell before almost _skipping_ out to my car parked in the student parking lot like a little girl.

Mikey didn't know I was coming home. He thought I was at the end of last week, but my projects held me back. I made sure to tell mom **not** to tell Mikey that today I was the day I was actually coming home, just to make today that more exciting.

And what made it even better, my car started first try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me comments and let me know what you guys thinks! :)


	3. Frank

December 12th, 1999   
**Friday;late afternoon**

Stupid fucking snow.

Or rather, stupid fucking people who won't _shovel_ the stupid fucking snow.

Pardon my French.

And on top of all of that, I had the hiccups, and they wouldn't go away. I've tried the 'hold your breath' trick a couple times on the six block walk to Mikey's house, but neither time seemed to work.

I huffed and suddenly hiccupped as I shoved my hands into my navy blue jean jacket, pushing my duffel bag full of clothes further up onto my shoulder. Not your typical winter coat, but besides the continuous fall of the snow, it actually wasn't that cold out. And that was really saying something. I mean, I was usually _always_ cold, no matter what the temperature was.

The snow crunched beneath my feet as I continued to walk in complete silence, the only noise being the snow under my feet and the occasional car that passed by on the road.

I raised my head, looking both ways before I crossed the street.

Nobody wants to get hit by a car, right?

I stepped up over the snow bank on the other side of the street, letting my lips curl into a smile as I noticed that Mikey's house was now only half of a block away. School only ended a few hours ago, which is where I see Mikey all day, but when were at each others houses, I can actually _talk_ to him.

I could feel another hiccup rising in my throat, and as I felt my body jerk forward and let it out of my body, feet seemed to slide right out from under me.

The hiccup seemed to almost get stuck in my throat, and the second my butt connected with the ground I began to cough. Thankfully my attack didn't last too long and I quickly pushed myself up off of the cold, wet ground.

I swung my head in every direction, looking to see if anybody saw what had just happened, and let out a long breath when nobody was in sight.

My ass was now soaking wet along with my feet. This whole issue could have been avoided if people would have just been so kind as to remove the white, fluffy mess from there sidewalks. It then wouldn't have turned to ice, and I wouldn't have to happen to be the klutzy kid who slipped on it, but that just wasn't the case, and I would now have to suffer through the rest of the day with a sore, wet rear end.

I shoved my hands back into my pockets, sliding the strap of my bag up my shoulder, making sure to look **down** at the sidewalk as my feet moved, avoiding all sections of the walk that could possibly be hazardous.

Finally, the small, white one story house came into complete view, my dorky smile coming back to my face. My pace sped up as I made my way up to the front door, my pointer finger slamming into the doorbell directly above the mail slot.

I waited patiently for Mikey to come to the door, my fingers instinctively moving up to my mouth, pulling at my lip ring.

Yeah, my mom wasn't too happy when I came home one day with my face pierced, but there really wasn't anything she could do about it. Though I am eighteen now, I wasn't when I got my lip and my nose done. Mikey had a relative that had a small shop in town, and when I mentioned that I had wanted to get a few piercings in the near future, I was soon sitting in his cousin's shop getting a needle shoved into my lip.

A small crash from the other side of the door brought me out of my thoughts, and the door was flung open.

"Hey Frank," Mikey grinned, leaning up against the door frame, pushing his square framed glasses further up his nose. He was breathing kind of hard, his arms crossed against his chest rising and falling with each one he took.

I smiled and nodded, following him into the house and closing the door behind me.

I wiped my wet vans on the rug next to the door before slipping them off. They needed to be aligned with the stripes on the rug before I would be satisfied enough to slip my coat off and hang it on the rack just above, which also needed to be straightened along with the others hanging along with it.

I absolutely hate when I do this.

I rolled my eyes, setting my bag next to my shoes and sighing before shuffling my feet down the hall to the living room. Rounding the corner, I raised my eyes to see Mikey, scurrying around the room cleaning and straightening things up.

For me.

See, this is why I love my best friend. I could be so damn annoying with my obsessive cleaning and constant urges to fix different things and no matter what, he always finds a way to help me out.

Mrs. Way new all about my problems, though she called them my 'obstacles'. She always says 'You do not have problems Frank. What you have are obstacles, something that you will eventually get through, and never have to look back at again.'

I loved her like a second mother, though I have never spoken to her. I know I trust her, but my head tells me differently.

I took a seat on the dark brown recliner, watching with a smile as Mikey fussed over me. He finally stopped running around the room long enough to throw himself into the depths of the couch, letting out along breath as he made eye contact with me.

"Why do you have that dorky look on your face?"

I grinned wider, shrugging my shoulders.

I knew his dad wasn't home; he was on a business trip down in Florida, but I didn't know if his mom was home or not. I would normally be okay with talking to him, but that was when we were sitting in his room, music up loud enough to block out everyone's ears from our conversations.

"Mom's not home Frank, its fine," he spoke, as if he was reading my mind.

My smile faltered a bit, though never left my face as I nodded once more. I believed him of course, I knew he wouldn't lie to me about something like this, but my head wasn't buying it. It wouldn't let the words come out of my mouth.

"Come on."

Mikey pushed himself off of the couch, making his way out of the room. He stopped and turned back to me, still sitting on the comfortable chair. He grinned. "You can come and see for yourself."

We walked through the entire house, checking every room until my head finally let itself and my mouth relax.

"Okay. I believe you."

He smiled wide as he heard me speak, something that only he and my own mother gets to hear. He led me back to the living room, passing the one door that I've never actually seen open. The basement door.

I knew Mikey had a brother. He was away at college for the time being, and has been for the last three months or so. Mikey talks about him all the time; how close they are and how much he misses him.

For how long I've actually known Mikey, I've never actually met his brother. We would always hang out at my house on weekends and stuff, and only go to his house on occasion, and I had never seen him any of the times we had actually been in the house at the same time.

I find it a bit weird actually.

I groaned as I entered the living room once more, earning a raised eyebrow from Mikey, who sat on the couch, legs set up on the coffee table. The television was on, currently flashing commercials about a random car dealership I have never heard of.

"What?"

I threw myself down next to him, my hand reaching to the back of my thigh, pulling at the fabric. "My ass is wet."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me," he laughed, scooting away from me.

I rolled my eyes, slouching down and putting my feet up also. "Shut up and give some of your pants."

Mikey continued to laugh, though it was a bit harder now, dropping the remote onto the couch. "You're a strange one, you know that?"

I shrugged, turning my attention to the small television set next to the window. His laughing died down as we became engrossed in the current episode of Tom and Jerry.

As the stupid cat got tricked by the mouse once again, something finally clicked in my head. "Oh shit!"

Mikey sat up, startled. "What?!"

I grinned, kicking my legs frantically in the air. "My hiccups are gone!"

Mikey started at me, a 'are you fucking serious' look across his face. I continued to smile, staring right back at him before he suddenly launched himself at me. "You fucking scared me you asshole!"

I squealed as I lay flat on my back, Mikey now sitting on my stomach, his hand pounding into my chest playfully.

"Michael James, get off of Frank and watch your damn language."

I stopped laughing as I titled my head back a bit further, getting a full, upside down view of Mikey's mom standing in the doorway of the kitchen and living room, carrying bags of groceries.

"I wouldn't want you call you a hypocrite Mom, but I think you brought that on yourself," Mikey laughed, lifting himself off of me, but making sure to put all of his weight on my gut before doing so, causing me to let out a 'oof'.

Mrs. Way rolled her eyes; a smile plastered on her face before disappearing into the kitchen, her high heals clicking along the tile floor. "Quit being a smartass and go get the rest of the groceries from the car. Frank, if you could help, thank you," she raised her voice, making sure we heard her.

I nodded up at Mikey, getting up off the couch and following him out of the room. "Yeah yeah. We got it."

We made our way to the front door, slipping on our shoes, but rejecting our coats. Mikey swung open the door, similar to how he did it when he answered it earlier, and I followed behind him.

But he never made his way out of the house; I knew because I slammed right into him. I moved my gaze from my feet to where he was looking, and finally figured out why he had stopped.

"Gerard?!"

My ears rung as Mikey screeched, launching himself into the arms of the guy standing on the other side of the doorway.

The infamous Gerard Way.


	4. Gerard

December 12th, 1999   
**Friday;late afternoon**

_Sunglasses..sunglasses..yes!_

I sighed in relief as I dug my obnoxiously large framed sunglasses out of the glove box, slipping them over my eyes and slamming the box shut. My eyes wandered back up to the stoplight that I was sitting at, just as it turned green.

For being gone for three months, nothing has really changed around this neighborhood. It was still as boring as ever.

My house was just outside the city, though still walking distance from it. All we basically had in this dinky ass town was a playground.

One I outgrew when I turned seven, thank you very much.

I suppose that's why I spent most of my time sitting in my room and avoiding everything on the outside these past years. Mikey always stayed with me though, like he didn't care about what was, or could be happening out there.

I don't know if it's because he felt bad for his pathetic older brother, or just because he wanted to. I never really asked him, I don't think I really wanted to know is answer.

I tell myself that he did because he [b]wanted[/b] to, so I am just going to stick to that for now.

Before I knew it, I was driving up my street. I could see my small house from my spot down the block which made me squeak as I jumped up and down in my seat, slamming the palms of my hands into the steering wheel.

I was excited, leave me be.

I pulled up next to the curb and shut the car off. My eyes drifted out the window across the street.

Mom was pulling bags out of the trunk of her car, completely oblivious to me watching her. She tucked a few under her arms and when she raised her head from inside the car, I couldn't help but snort as I watched her head connect with the trunk.

I began almost _giggling_ as I read her lips, curse words flowing out of her mouth. She staggered around a bit, attempting to keep the bags from falling and trying not to trip while wearing a pair of high heels. The large amount of snow that had accumulated over the past couple of what looked like days wasn't helping her either.

I never understood why women wear those things. They always seem to make them taller than their dates, which I find a bit weird, and I've never heard so many complaints from those who wear them.

If they're so damn uncomfortable, don't fuckin' wear them.

Makes sense to me.

I threw open the car door and pushed myself out. Mom was attempting to grab more grocery bags now, though she still looked as if she was going to collapse any second.

"Ma! Would you quit picking up more, you're gonna hurt yourself," I laughed, quickly jogging across the street and up the driveway.

She spun around, the bag balanced under her arm falling from her grasp. I sped up, reaching forward and gripping the handle of the paper bag, but that ended up ripping, it crashing to the ground anyways.

"Shit," I cussed, kneeling down, catching the cans of soup that began rolling towards the street. I grimaced as I pulled my hand out of the bag quickly; it covered in the slimy substance of a broken egg.

I heard Mom laugh, as I attempted to shovel everything that fell out of the bag back in.

"Gerard quit it. Get up here and give your Mother a hug now, damn it."

I chuckled, letting my head hang as I did so until I felt a violent tug on my jacket. I pushed myself up off the ground, her arms wrapping themselves around my neck immediately.

"My baby's back from college," she cooed, completely ignoring the fact that I couldn't breathe because of her death grip.

I began coughing as she squeezed tighter, the way my face was slammed into her shoulder had my sunglasses pushed so close to my eyes, I couldn't even open them. "Mom, calm down please."

Her arms relaxed and then finally fell from around me. My hands went directly to my face, pulling my sunglasses off and setting them atop of my head before rubbing my eyes. "Jeez Ma. What was that for?"

"What?" she asked, her blonde, curly hair waving with her movements. "I'm not allowed to miss my own child?" she threw her arms up in the air. "What has this world come to?"

I rolled my eyes, which were now able to see correctly, before shooing her off. "Whatever. Bring the damn bags in the house and I'll clean this up."

I heard her sigh as I crouched down once more to attempt to clean the mess up, but before my knees hit the pavement, she had me in another bone crushing hug. "Don't talk to your Mother like that. It's rude."

I began laughing at her comment, reaching my hands up to lightly push her off of me, knowing that if I didn't, she could stand out here all day.

It was her turn to roll her eyes, but finally turned back around, grabbing only a couple bags rather than every single one, letting me get back to cleaning the eggs off of the driveway.

I managed to get most of the goop picked up, the snow stained yellow from what I couldn't get. The rest of the cans and boxes were thrown into other bags in the trunk. The ripped bag worked like a charm, all of the mess now rolled up into the paper. I carried it over to the side of the garage, my free hand reaching to open up the tin can. The smell of old trash that had sat in it before floated up to my nose causing me to cringe and cough. I threw the bag into the can, quickly closing it to get rid of the smell.

I groaned as I wiped my hands off on my pants, noticing that my knees were soaked from kneeling on the wet, snowy pavement. The ends of my pants were once again dripping too.

This is why I hated winter so much. 

I made my way across the width of the driveway and up the couple stairs to the front door. My excitement had built up even more now, knowing that Mikey was somewhere beyond this door.

I reached out to grab the doorknob, but it turned before I could even set my hand on it. It startled me at first, but when it swung open, I felt a grin spread across my face.

He was tall. That's all I could really say. I know it's only been three months, but I guess that's when he decided to grow. His hair was longer, but those damn glasses still sat on the end of his nose.

The second he saw a pair of feet that wasn't his in front of him, his head shot up. His body jerked forward when he stopped walking, my eyes glancing behind him to find another boy, looking about Mikey's age, startled at the sudden contact.

"Gerard?!"

Ouch. His damn high pitched voice still hadn't gone away though.

He launched himself into my arms, my whole body jerking back as his feet slammed into the door frame as he attempted to wrap them around my waist. I stepped back out of the doorway, allowing him to do so.

"Hey Mikey," I mumbled into his shoulder, my eyes closing as I rested my head there.

He wiggled around, letting me know he wanted to get down. I loosened my grip from around his back, letting his feet rest on the ground.

Ha! I was still taller than him, but just barely.

"You were supposed to be home days ago!" he yelled, grinning all the while as he reached up to push his glasses further up his nose, though they just fell right back down to where they had started.

"Yeah, I got held up. Projects and all," I laughed, pushing a bit of hair out of my face, noticing that my sunglasses weren't on my head anymore. My eyes went directly to the ground, searching.

"Oh. Oh right! Gerard! Gerard this is Frank. Frank, Gerard," Mikey rushed.

My eyes went from the ground to where Mikey had been standing, but was now inhabited by the kid that had been hiding behind him this whole time. Mikey had run off to Mom's car.

He didn't look at me, his face hid behind a curtain of his hair that fell directly in front of his right eye. He was staring at his shoes like they were the most fascinating things on the planet.

His shoes are nice, actually.

And damn. I thought _I_ wore tight pants. I don't even know if I could breathe in what he was wearing. His shirt was a plus too. I had the exact same Iron Maiden one packed away in my suitcase.

I tore my eyes away though, noticing I was staring a bit too long. Not that he knew or anything. He didn't even look up.

"Hey." That's all you could say? Come on you idiot!

He almost looked frightened when I spoke, his head snapping up and his eyes meeting mine. He had hazel, almost green eyes outlined with a small amount of eyeliner. Never seen that before.

He didn't speak, but he did raise his arm, dropping something in my hand before quickly running after Mikey.

My eyes followed him until his was hidden by the car and then I looked down to my hand.

My sunglasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #4! :)


	5. Frank

December 12th, 1999  
 **Friday;night**

This guy could really talk.

And talk and _talk_.

Even if I **could** butt into the current conversation that was going on between the members of the Way family, I don't think I'd even be able to keep up with this guy.

"-I mean, have you even been feeding this damn kid?! He looks like he hasn't eaten anything in a month!" he laughed, resting the fork in his hand on his plate, his second helping of lasagna piled next to it.

_He's always looked like that, what are you talking about?_ I smiled.

"Shut up Gerard. I'm not that skinny, so just leave me alone," Mikey rolled his eyes, trying to hold back a smile as he shoved a forkful of food in his mouth.

Gerard let out a high pitched noise, like a laugh of some sort, and then suddenly stopped to dig back into his food.

I looked around the table at Mrs. Way and Mikey to see if they took any notice of his sudden outburst, but both were engrossed in eating as well. The two seemed to just blow it over, starting up a quiet conversation amongst each other across the table.

I continued to look at the two of them, wondering why the hell they weren't staring at this guy like I saw. I suppose I was being over-dramatic, but I mean really, who the hell makes noises like that?

I don't even think that I could go that high, and let me tell you, I can laugh pretty fuckin' loud and high pitched when I'm able to.

I smiled I dropped my gaze to my plate, pushing the few noodles and globs of meat sauce that were still left around with my fork, contemplating if I wanted to finish it or not.

Stabbing a piece of meat, I raised it to my mouth, lifting my gaze at the same time.

This guy intrigued me.

I mean, I've been friends with Mikey for a couple of years now, and I've never met his brother.

Mikey always said that he stayed in his room all the time, never coming out of his little space only when absolutely necessary. He said they had a good relationship; I could tell within the first five minutes of him being home. They didn't seem to agree on every little thing, but hey, that's what siblings do, right?

I mean, I wouldn't really know. Don't have any, and really hope to God my Mom isn't planning on having anymore. She can barely keep up with herself, and I can't see her trying to raise another kid like me.

Don't even think I could do it.

He had dark hair, black hair actually, that looked like it hadn't been washed in a week and it was constantly falling in front of his face. Sometimes he'd push it back, but it always seemed to fall right back to where it was. And sometimes he just let it sit there in front of his eyes, making me question if he was looking at me or at something else. His sunglasses seemed to hold most of it back from what I could see earlier up until Mikey's clumsy self had to go and knock them off when he practically tackled the guy in the doorway.

His clothes? Black.

All black.

It also looked like he's been hiding from the sun for the three months that he's been away. I mean, yeah, its winter, and I don't really go outside, but I'm not **that** white.

Mrs. Way suddenly pushed herself away from the table, the scratching of the bottom of the chair on the linoleum floor making me jump in my own.

The fork that _was_ in my hand dropped onto my plate, bouncing down and landing between my legs on the chair. The steaming noodles that I was about to shove in my mouth were now burning the inside on my thigh, causing me to shoot up from my chair. The whole table shook as my legs slammed into it. I forcefully pushed my chair away from my legs, freeing my lower half from under the table and began almost swatting the food off of my pants.

I bit my lip so hard that I was sure to see blood later on, my throat burning as I tried to let out a scream that wanted to escape my mouth, but it wouldn't come out. I was bouncing around, shaking around my right leg to get the scorching food off while I was pulling the now hot fabric of my jeans away from my other leg.

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Way cried, rushing around the table. She snatched up a wash cloth that lay next to the sink and pushed herself past my abandoned chair. I stopped hopping around as she set her hand on my shoulder. "Don't you worry, there will be no stain in these pants if I have anything to do with it," she smiled up at me almost sympathetically; I did just kind of made a fool of myself.

But what she did next would completely blow over any chance of getting back my dignity for the day.

She knelt down in front of me, took hold of the side of my leg, gripping my pants and began to ferociously scrub at the sauce stain.

My eyes went wider than humanly possible as I stared down at her, my mouth dropping open as a small squeak found its way out. My hands, that had been sticking almost straight out from my body, found their way to her shoulders, but almost instantly taking them back, noticing how much more awkward that made this situation.

My head shot up to look at the two people sitting at the table, watching this whole scene play out.

Mikey sat completely still, his eyes almost as big as mine; his food abandoned and shoved off to the side. His lips were moving, as if he was trying to say something, but nothing was coming out.

Thanks a lot Mikes.

I shifted my glance to his brother, noticing that he hadn't said a fucking word in the last minute. He seemed so enthused to talk earlier, what about now?

My hips suddenly bucked backwards and I started coughing, covering up my urge to forcefully shove Mrs. Way away.

She was being a bit too rough with the cleaning and it was beginning to get more and more uncomfortable by the second. And I hate to admit that fact that this was getting me a bit -- worked up? Especially in that one specific area, and I could feel my face become considerably warmer as I thought about **Mikey's Mom** being the one that was practically _feeling me up_. Though she most likely won't ever see it that way, or at least I hope she never does; she seemed quite concentrated on her task at hand

"Mom! Mom--Jesus, leave the kid alone."

And so he speaks!

Mrs. Way abruptly stopped her violent scrubbing, turning to her son. "What?" she shook her head. "Oh nevermind. You!" she stood up, throwing the rag into the sink and pointing to Mikey, who's mouth was still half open, making her way out of the kitchen and towards what I could guess, the laundry room. "Go get Frank another pair of pants. Clean ones Michael!"

Mikey shot up from his seat, nodding frantically and bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room.

I let out a breath that I felt like I had been holding in for hours and looked down to see a large red stain on the inside of my thigh. I sighed and rested my hands on the back of my abandoned chair, and closed my eyes to try to get my breathing back to normal. A small crash brought me back out of my own little world, my head shooting up once more.

I had totally forgotten Gerard was still in the kitchen, though he wasn't watching me like he was during the whole -- fiasco, it still felt a bit uncomfortable. I, in turn, watched him walk around the kitchen, picking up the dishes from dinner and dropping them in the sink.

"You know," he spoke, scaring me just like his Mom had did earlier, luckily nothing was in my hands to drop.

"Staring gets you into these types of situations," he smirked, turning towards me, leaning up against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

I froze, swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat.

He let out a small laugh, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "Don't think I can't see you behind all this hair."

His voice was so quiet that if I hadn't been listening so damn hard, I don't think I would have heard it at all.

"Frank! Go take off those pants! I'm going to get that damn stain out if it takes me all night."

I shut my eyes tight as Gerard burst out laughing, though attempting, and might I say failing miserably, to hold it in.

Oh my god, please kill me now.


	6. Gerard

December 12th, 1999   
**Friday;night**

So my Mom's done a lot of embarrassing stuff to me and Mikey, but what she did to that poor kid in the kitchen was beyond horrible.

I attempted to hold back a laugh, even though I was now completely alone in my room, but I felt bad I guess. I _did_ laugh at the guy right to his face upstairs, and I wish I hadn't.

His face turned redder then a fucking tomato.

For real.

Composing myself, I took a good long look at my room. Nothings changed of course; nobody's ever down here except me. A lot of my drawings that I've done over the years clung to the four walls of the room, covering up most of the _ugly_ wood paneling that had once been the only thing adorning this room.

I yawned suddenly, my hand covering my mouth while the other rested on my hip. It was a bit passed ten thirty, which wasn't that late, but I had an excuse. I was up early for class, give me a break.

I threw myself down onto my bed, groaning as soon as I hit the mattress. My sheets were upstairs in the wash at the moment because I didn't take them off before I left for school.

Ick.

They were horrible when I left, so having them sit there for three months wasn't going to magically make them smell--good.

I sighed, turning my head to look at the clock on my bedside table once again before deciding that I needed a cigarette before I crashed. Pushing myself up from my oh so comfortable **king** sized bed--yeah, i could actually _fit_ on this one--and reached for my bag at my feet.

I ripped it open, suddenly feeling extremely antsy, and began pulling all of the junk that was inside, throwing my art supplies across the room. Most of the stuff landed at its destination, my desk, but some completely missed. I cursed when a small thing of bright orange paint busted open, slamming against the leg of the desk and spilling out onto the light brown carpet. I spun around in a circle where I was standing, searching for anything to clean it up with. I dropped to my knees when I couldn't see anything that I didn't want to get stained, and finally settled on using a sock I found underneath the bed.

Unfortunately, it didn't help one bit getting the paint off of the carpet. I think it actually made the stain worse.

I sighed once more, throwing the sock to the other side of the room, letting my butt rest on my feet. I rolled my eyes at the bright orange spot like it could understand that it hurt my feelings or something, and pushed myself back to my feet.

I grabbed my last pack of cigarettes out of the bottom of my suitcase and made my way up the basement stairs. I hit the pack against the palm of my hand as I walked up the stairs, trying my hardest not to trip up them as I did so. Don't even know if I could count how many times I'd tripped up these damn steps over the years.

The door at the top of the stairs squeaked, just like every other door in this house did, so I was sure to open it slowly so I wouldn't wake my Mom, whose room was just down the hall. I still heard the noise of the dryer in the laundry room further down the hall, so I decided that I'd be able to smoke before fixing up my bed. I slipped though the door before blindly making my way through the dark kitchen and into the living room.

I heard a quite giggle as I entered along with Mikey's high pitched laugh. I stepped into the living room, almost kicking the coffee table that had been moved, and took a look at Mikey and his friend Frank sprawled out on top of sleeping bags on the floor in front of the TV. Mikey sat up against the couch, still laughing like a total idiot, though he kept it quiet for Mom's sake, but still. Frank on the other hand was laying down, his pillow rested on Mikey's outstretched legs, his body curled up under him.

I looked up at the TV, noticing that there was currently a commercial playing on the screen, and suddenly wondered why they were both laughing.

"What are you watching?"

Mikey's laughter ceased, his head whipping in my direction, as did Frank's. His hand went to his chest; his heavy breathing was suddenly heard. "Jesus Christ Gerard! You scared the living shit outta me. Fuck--"

I snorted, smiling slightly at Mikey's overdramatic--ness. "You live in fucking Jersey Mikey. You need to get used to people sneaking up on you."

I could literally hear Mikey roll his eyes as I watched Frank sit up from his laying position. "Whatever, asshole. Were are _trying_ to watch The Breakfast Club, but it's on TV so they have commercials, and they cut out all the good parts."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the pack of cigarettes in my hand, pulling the small clear tab off of the top and shoving it in my pocket, pulling out my lighter instead. "I have the movie downstairs if you want to watch the whole thing. It's somewhere down there."

Mikey's eyes almost lit up. He loved The Breakfast Club almost as much as I loved those vampire and gory flicks. He turned to Frank, asking him if he wanted him to go get the movie. I waited for Frank to say something, but I didn't hear a word nor see him shake his head or anything. He was now sitting just like Mikey, so his body was blocked from my view. By how Mikey shot up from his seat on the ground and almost ran me over, I concluded that Frank's answer had been a yes.

I stood there almost awkwardly, twirling my lighter in-between my fingers. Frank sat there cross legged playing with the zipper of the sleeping bag that now covered his lap. I listened to the _zip zip zip_ of the small zipper while I watched Frank's head move back and forth ever so slightly as his eyes moved along with his hands.

I had no idea how to start up a conversation with this guy, and I figured by how much I've heard him talk in the last seven hours--which would be a total of never--that he wouldn't be talking it up anytime soon.

"So I'm gonna go outside now, or something. Yeah," I said, using both of my hands to gesture to the hall, which lead to the front door.

He jumped, just like he did when I talked the first time, eyes growing wide as he stopped playing with the zipper. I stood there a few seconds, waiting for him to possibly say something, and when he didn't even move, I just backed out of the room.

Way to make a fool of yourself.

I rushed down the hall, completely ignoring putting on shoes or a jacket, unlocked the door and stepped out.

Bad idea.

The snow that was on the front steps immediately soaked into my socks, freezing the bottom of my feet. The strong wind whipped my hair about, and I cursed, hopping around a bit before finding a spot on the top of the landing that didn't have snow.

So I stood there on my tip toes, one arm wrapped around my body while the other was shaking as I quickly puffed away on a cigarette.

I feel like a total idiot. Thank God nobody's out at this time of night.

I threw my cigarette down the steps and into a bank of snow, blowing out the last bit of smoke before rushing back into the house. The warm air heated my freezing skin, and I sighed happily, resting my back against the now closed and locked door.

I slipped off my wet socks, leaving them in a pile by the door before making my way back into the living room. The lamps were now on, the whole room now lit up. Mikey sat on his knees in front of the TV, fiddling around with the VHS tape. Frank was nowhere to be seen.

"You found it I take it?" I asked, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table, cupping my hands around my mouth, blowing hot air onto them in hopes of warming them up.

Mikey took a look back at me before smiling and nodding, grabbing the remote off of the console and returning to his spot in front of the couch.

I took a look behind me, hoping Frank wouldn't appear anytime soon. I had to ask Mikey a few things. I lowered my voice a bit before speaking. "Hey Mikes?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, clicking buttons on the remote, not taking his eyes away from it.

"Does your friend talk? He hasn't said anything the whole night," I questioned, itching the back of my head as I did so.

Mikey broke away from the beginning of his movie, pausing it as he did so, and turned to me. "What?"

I still kept quiet, but spoke a bit louder. "Does Frank ever talk? Or am I just imagining things?"

Mikey shook his head, reaching up and pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Not a lot, no."

"Why?" God I'm nosey.

Mikey shrugged, though when he spoke he didn't look at me. When Mikey Way doesn't look at you when he speaks, he's lying. "Dunno."

"Mikey, don't lie to me."

"Quit being so damn nosey then," he shot back.

I sighed. "Sorry. I'm just wondering."

It was his turn to sigh. "No, I'm sorry." He lifted his head up, looking past me, which prompted me to do the same. "He's in the bathroom. Well, he talks to me at least, but that's about it."

My face scrunched up in confusion. "Why? He your boyfriend?" I teased.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "No, you assface. He's my best friend. He talks to me because," he paused as he heard the toilet flush and the door being unlocked from down the hall. He rushed through the rest of his sentence. "Because he can't talk to anyone else."

My face stayed the way it was, my head spinning as I tried to filter Mikey's words. I heard feet shuffling behind me, and soon Frank appeared from the doorway. He made his way back to his spot next to Mikey. I saw Mikey smile at him before hitting play on the remote.

I found this the perfect time to slip from the room, the rattling of the dryer still filling the air, but at this point, I could care less if my sheets were still wet. This was just too much information for one night.


	7. Frank

December 17th, 1999  
 **Wednesday;afternoon**

"You know, you _could_ help me instead of sitting there on your ass."

I tore my eyes away from my feet to Mikey, but continued to tug repeatedly on the strings of my winter hat. He stood in the middle of the driveway; his body slumped over the shovel he was using to clear away the snow, his glasses almost falling off the tip of his nose.

I shifted in my lawn chair that I had placed in the middle of Mikey's yard, shrugging my shoulders before going back to drawing things in the snow with my shoes. I heard him sigh over dramatically before the scraping of his shovel on the cement was heard once again.

Wednesday was Mikey's "Chore Day!" as his Mom liked to call it, and I was actually beginning to thank my own Mother for making me skip art class.

At first, yeah, I was upset that she told me that I wasn't allowed to go to class for a month, but now that I thought about it more, I didn't really even like it to begin with. I couldn't draw anything to save my life, the only reason I even went there was because I had been since I was ten. I was used to all of the people there, and I was comfortable, which was a feeling that I never really felt; especially at school.

At school, nobody talks to me. Mikey is the only one, besides the teachers, which by the way seem to ignore me just as much as the whole school population, who actually tries to start up a conversation with me. I never talk to Mikey at school though. I am always way too paranoid that someone is sitting around the corner of the hall listening. I really have to idea why; my Mom thinks it's because I don't like the sound of my own voice. My doctor had actually said that this could be one of the main reasons why I have Selective Mutism.

Ugh-- _Mutism_. I just hate that word. I can talk--just not all the time.

And I especially hate it when people don't understand it. Just because I'm the 'mute kid' at school, doesn't mean I can't fucking hear. People are so goddamned stupid these days.

I leaned further back into my lawn chair, tugging down my hat just a bit further, pushing a bit of hair out of my eyes before pulling my sleeves of my sweatshirt and gripping the fabric in my palms. Pulling my up my feet, resting my heels on the edge of the chair, I looked back up at Mikey.

I accidentally let out an obnoxiously loud snort, before almost falling out of my chair in a fit of giggles at the sight of Mikey attempting to lift up a large amount of snow on his small little shovel. His face was beat red, and he looked like he was about to shit himself with the way his body was angled. The second he heard me laughing though, he practically jumped, dropping the shovel to the ground and having its handle just happen to drop right onto his foot.

I totally lost it, my eyes beginning to blur with tears as I clutched my stomach, my lungs now begging for air. I heard his cuss a few times before he began whining.

"Frank, you're an asshole! Owwww---" he drawled over dramatically, now cradling his left foot in his arms as he hopped around, trying to stay standing.

Continuing my giggling, I tried to shout back a smart ass reply, but the lack of air, and lack of --speaking-- kept me from doing so. I mean, come on, that didn't hurt _that_ bad.

The sound of crunching snow and the feeling of somebody approaching seemed to break me out of my little trance, and I opened my eyes, my giggles quieting down. Mikey had one of those looks plastered to his face, reading that he was trying to be serious and look pissed off, but he was also trying so hard not to smile.

"You find that funny, Iero?"

I slouched down in my chair, keeping my arms on the arm rests, but lifting up my legs for some sort of defense. I spoke quietly, "Back the fuck up man. I'm a ninja, and you don't want to get hurt."

Mikey's 'serious' face faltered for a split second before he cocked his head to the side. "Oh really?"

I lifted my head just a bit to see over my outstretched legs, which were now moving out and back like I was riding a bike or something, raising my eyebrow at him before responding. "Uh huh. Whatcha gonna do about it, huh? Mister 'I-can't-fucking-shovel-snow-correctly'?"

Mikey squinted a bit, needing to listen real close to even hear what I was saying because I spoke so softly, but then rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "First off, that was the lamest name I have ever received, and believe me, I've heard a few.'

I snorted again, momentarily breaking my 'tough guy' character, but quickly recovered.

Oh, and by the way, we do this a lot, for those out there that think we are mental or something.

"Second!" he raised his voice to be heard loud and clear over me, which is very rare by the way. "You know what I'm gonna do?"

"What?" I mumbled, hoping he would do _something_ quick because my legs were getting tired from 'cycling' in midair.

"This," he grunted before kicking my legs to the side, launching himself at me when my defenses were down.

His shoulder rammed into my chest, knocking the air that I just got back from my fit from before, and we both fell backwards in my chair and collapsed to the ground. The chair folded up underneath me and was abandoned as our momentum caused us to slide across the lawn a bit. The second we stopped though, I began coughing and flailing about as Mikey attempted to shove snow in my mouth and even into my clothes.

I, personally, blamed the height difference. How the hell was I supposed to get out of this?

"Mikey, quit molesting the kid on the lawn. The neighbors don't want to see that."

This guy has the worst timing. He doesn't speak up until his Mom practically--okay, she was just _helping_ but really? He couldn't of said something _before_ she went--that far. And now his brother was apparently **molesting** me on his front lawn. Maybe I just don't get it.

"You can't rape the willing, Gee!" Mikey shouted back, laughing as he rolled off me and laid back onto the snow.

My hat had somehow fallen off in the small brawl on the lawn, so I pulled it back on my head before resting myself on my elbows, attempting to catch my breath. I watched Gerard slowly make his way down the front steps, balancing a cigarette between his lips as he carried a plastic bag in one hand as he chuckled lightly at Mikey's comment, making his way towards us.

"I didn't know you swung that way Mikes. Welcome to the club," he laughed, blowing out the last of his cancer stick before flicking it across the lawn.

My eyes widened a bit.

Wow. You learn something new everyday.

Mikey laughed too, propping himself up like me. "Nope, sorry. Though I might want to join if you give out free shirts."

I heard his brother let out an airy laugh, his feet scuffing the snow, bits flying in the air and onto my pant leg. They're already wet enough, thank you very much.

"You're a nerd."

I looked over at Mikey, watching him nod along with whatever his brother said. He smiled over at me, before lifting his eyes to Gerard. "So what brings you out on this fine day?"

I let out a small, unintentional laugh. Just the way Mikey talked on a daily basis got me. My eyes widened a bit and my head shot up to see if Gerard had actually heard me.

Like some cheesy ass movie, the wind had picked up and just the way his hair blew in his face, causing him to squint, the small smile that was on his face that told me that he had heard me, made him look, in a way--attractive.

My thoughts were ended as quickly as they began with _his_ voice. "Toro's. Haven't seen him in a while and I have some drawing's I want to show him." he lifted up the small plastic bag in his hand.

I moved my eyes from the ground to Mikey, looking at him questionably. He nodded quickly. "Gerard's an artist. That's what he went to college for. He's actually really good at it."

Gerard chuckled. "Not really. Mikey's just a little overdramat--"

"Oh!" Mikey shouted, pushing himself up from where he was laying and scaring the hell out of me and interrupting Gerard's sentence. "Frank! You know how your Mom won't let you go to art class, right?"

I nodded dumbly.

"Gee can teach you! I mean, he's probably way better than those old people that run the thing, and plus. He's way cooler cause he's related to _me_ \--oww! Fuck you!" he clutched the side of his head as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

I watched Gerard roll his eyes, Mikey now cooperating from his slight blow to the head. Gerard then shrugged a 'sure' before looking down at me. His lips went from a small smile to a little frown, now changing his mind. "I mean, if you wanted. It doesn't matter to me or anything."

I felt bad now; that he actually wanted to do it. I never really told Mikey that I didn't really even like art class. He would ask how it went and I would come back with a 'good' or something along those lines. I didn't know if I was letting the guy down if I said no, but the way his face dropped when I looked un-enthused kind of answered my question.

But what I think changed my own mind, was the fact that he spoke to me. He’s done it before, but – I don’t even know. This time was just different.

I looked between the two brothers, before giving a slight nod.

Gerard smiled.


	8. Gerard

December 17th, 1999   
**Wednesday;afternoon**

"I didn't know you swung that way Mikes. Welcome to the club," I laughed, throwing my cigarette across the lawn.

I watched Frank's eyes widen and Mikey roll his eyes, and almost laughed once more out loud. It's not everyday that you hear something like your best friend’s big brother being gay, huh?

At least now I know that people don't think I'm that flamboyant at first glance.

"Nope, sorry. Though I might want to join if you give out free shirts." Mikey laughed.

I rolled my eyes and kicked at the snow before commenting. "You're a nerd."

Mikey shuffled around a bit as I watched his friend out of the corner of my eye. He kept playing around with the strings on his hat and he needed to move his hair out of his eyes. It was bothering the hell out of me, but I figured he would find it weird if I moved it myself, so I instead distracted myself with staring down at my shoes. "So what brings you out on this fine day?"

I shifted my weight to my other foot and went to explain that I was headed out to Toro's house, but was cut off by a short, high pitched _giggle_. My eyes shot down to Frank, who now looked like he just saw a ghost and immediately looked up at me. His eyes didn't leave mine for a couple of seconds, but then all of a sudden it looked like he zoned out a bit, his eyes dropping to the snow. I squinted, trying to figure out why the hell he got so freaked out.

I raised the bag in my hand, my eyes still on him. "Toro's. Haven't seen him in a while and I have some drawing's I want to show him."

Frank moved his eyes to Mikey and they nodded to each other. "Gerard's an artist. That's what he went to college for. He's actually really good at it."

I fucking _hate_ compliments or I just don't take to them well. I guess I would say the latter of the two actually. "Not really. Mikey's just a little overdramat--"

Mikey began squeaking, his glasses almost flying off his face and he bounded up from his seat. My eyes traveled back to Frank as he began rambling about me teaching him art lessons. I knocked him upside the head for him just offering my time to teach his friend how to draw and second for his stupid comment.

"--Oww! Fuck you!" Mikey cried, clutched the side of his head as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

I threw out a small smile, before dropping my gaze to Frank once again. He was staring back up at me, and it was then that I realized that he was waiting for my answer.

I nodded a 'Sure', before quickly changing my mind and began stumbling over my words like an idiot. "I mean, if you wanted. It doesn't matter to me or anything."

I mentally slapped myself. Why the hell would I even say that? 'It doesn't matter to me'. I sounds like a fucking douche bag now.

But when I watched Frank nod, with a small hint of a smile on his face, that didn't make me feel as bad.

++

"God damn it! Way to be a fuckass, dipshit!" I shouted to the confines of my car, the 'fuckass' that had cut me off had already sped away and wouldn't have heard my creative nickname anyways.

I let out a long, almost strangled groan as I quickly accelerated around the block, continuing to rant to myself about how he was 'costing me gas money' and how I have 'absolutely no patience for idiots like him'.

After my small little 'detour' throughout the outskirts of Bellville, which took much longer than necessary because I only lived a few miles away, I finally arrived at my destination.

The infamous Ray Toro's not so shabby one bedroom apartment in real shitty part of the city. Ray was my age, and unlike me, moved out of his house after he graduated high school. Not that he didn't get along with his parents, no. It was nothing like that.

I only met Ray through Mikey, when they had both worked at Barnes and Noble, when we were both in our senior year. Ray and I hit it off almost instantly, becoming good friends that is, you know, the ones that are constantly at each others houses and never really at their own? Yeah, you could say he was one of my best friends, and I believe he was one of the biggest factors of me getting through high school. He and Mikey actually. Mikey kept me together at home, while Ray did that same at school.

Okay. Story time here.

I was the kid at school that everyone made fun of. The one nobody cared to acknowledge and the one nobody cared to help. Growing up, you always thought it was the 'cool' thing to be the popular ones in school, you know. The ones that everyone knew and the ones everyone wanted to be. Could you believe I was popular back in high school? Everyone knew who I was. They all knew my name; you might recognize it as 'Boom Boom?' Or sometimes it was 'Thunder Thighs'. It really depended on the day, or what mood people were in. Nobody wanted to be me though. Alongside the name calling, I was constantly getting beat up and attacked.

For the first three years of high school that went on. I suffered at school, and then I went home and did the same. I never told my parents what went on; it's not like the school called home about what went on there. I just didn’t want them to worry about me. They didn't care one bit about the fat kid that got sent to the nurse nearly everyday, and I believe they knew that I never told my parents because I was continuously beaten and nothing was changing. I did, though, cry my heart out to my little brother one night my sophomore year after I began to almost loose it. He had noticed that I was getting smaller over the past months and cornered me about it one night. I ended up telling him everything; from the name calling, to the beatings, and also about how I had begun starving myself to loose weight when I wasn’t even that big to begin with. I cried all night, and not for one second did he leave my side. I cried about those who treated me like shit at school, and also for those who didn't, because they never did anything to prevent it from happening. I cried for Mikey too. He was only in sixth grade at the time, and he cared for me more than anybody else.

My senior year began, and even though I had lost some weight from the previous years, the nicknames that I had been given stuck with me. Mikey had begun eighth grade, and still wasn't in the same school as I was. He did though find me someone I could stick with that was in my own grade. He had gotten some small part time job from our Mom, who knew the woman who ran Barnes and Noble, and that is where he met Ray Toro. When Mikey introduced us though, we didn't 'click' like he had hoped. I had recognized Ray from school; him being one of those kids that sat in the background and didn't dare step up and tell those who hurt me to 'back the fuck off'. I didn't take a liking to him one bit; that was until he did do what I had hoped and dreamed about for the last three years of my life; stick up for me. The guy he clocked in the middle of the hallway was actually sent home because he had messed up his nose pretty badly. The assholes that thought it was so much fun to kick my ass began realizing that I might actually have friends to defend me, and because of what Ray did to that kid, they began to leave me alone. Me and Ray have been friends ever since.

Sitting back against my torn, crappy, plastic covered seat in my small, crappy, dent covered car, I smiled slightly. I might not have the perfect life, but I sure as hell have a pretty good one. I have people who care, and love me for who I am. Though there always feels like there is something missing; perhaps someone.

I shook my head, closing my eyes for a few moments before letting myself exit the car with my drawings, and make my way into the apartment building and up to Ray's floor.

I grinned as I approached _A23_ , lifting my fist up and began to frantically pound on the chipped wooden door.

"Hold on! --fucking, hey! Give me a fuckin' minute, alright?!"

I stopped my beating on his door, not to obey by his command, but because I could barley hold myself up any longer. My ribs ached, and my lungs called for air as I almost fell to the ground laughing. I tumbled forward suddenly; the hand that had been resting on the door lost its place as it swung open, my body coming into contact with another.

"What the fuck?! --Gerard?" Ray's voice sounded vicious at first, but upon noticing it was me collapsed against him, his voice lost its bitchy tone and he loosened his grip around my forearms.

"Yeah, dickface. Were you gonna kick my ass if it wasn't?" I laughed and I stood up properly, taking a good long look at the guy standing in front of me. Woah, did his hair get large. Ray has got to have the poofiest hair you'll ever see, and he's damn proud of it too. Don't you dare make fun of the fro, or you'll get kicked in the shins.

I watched Ray roll his eyes, before pulling me to him in a hug. "Oh shut it. It's not everyday I get a creeper banging on my door, now is it? I have to get defensive sometimes."

"Whatever man. Just be happy I came and saw you. Some jackass cut me off on the way here," I pulled away from him, poking him in the chest and trying to act serious, but failing miserably. "I almost turned around and went right back home."

Ray laughed, shaking his head as he closed the door behind me. "Don't lie Getard. You missed me and you know it."

I smiled innocently, scrunching my face up and kicking my leg out like I was a four year old girl. "No way. Boys are icky!"

Ray snorted, knowing full and well I thought the complete opposite, and I dropped my character instantly, drooping my shoulders and staring at him with a bowed head. He snapped his mouth shut, shooting me a smile. "What?"

I rolled my eyes, waving my hand. "Nothing." I looked up, smiling once more. "Can we leave the entry way now?"

++

"Ray Ray, you still have your computer?" I shouted, though it wasn't really necessary because of how small the apartment actually was, as I stood in the small kitchen.

Ray entered the kitchen from the living room, scratching his head with one hand while the other held one of the few drawings I had brought with me. I sat on the counter next to the fridge, guzzling down a Mountain Dew like there was no tomorrow. Stressing out in the car really makes a guy thirsty.

"Yeah, it's in my room. Gerard - these are really good you know. This looks so much like Mikey, it's unreal," he trailed off, motioning to a door right outside the kitchen.

I hopped down, making my way towards it, Ray following. "I know," I pushed open the door, making my way through his messy room to his computer on the other side. "I think I'm gonna give it to his for Christmas or something. I'm pretty sure he'd like it."

"He'd love it," Ray smiled, pushing a button on the monitor to get it to turn on. "So, what do you need this for?"

I opened a new internet tab, slowly, but surly typing in _www.wikipedia.org_ into the top bar. "I need to look up a few things."

Upon bothering Mikey a few nights ago about his friend Frank, I had also taken it upon myself to begin talking to my Mom about him too. And what I got out of her was two words, which I began typing oh so slowly into the search bar.

_'selective mutism'_


	9. Frank

December 19th, 1999   
**Friday;afternoon**

"Frank?"

I rubbed my eyes and yawned, inadvertently scratching the back of my head as I did so, peering into my locker.

Winter break officially began the second I stepped foot outside of those rusty old double doors out in front of the school, and I couldn't wait. Though Mrs. Walker, my English teacher was currently holding me back from reaching my day’s destination. She had made a large assignment due at the end of our two week break from school, and I couldn't seem to find the damn book needed to actually write the thing. I believe it was called The Grapes of Wrath, or something along those lines. We were _supposed_ to be done with the thing almost a week ago, and I hadn't even touched the four hundred plus page book yet, and I had to finish that and write a paper.

Yeah.

Good luck with all of that.

"Frank!"

My head shot up from inside of my locker, connecting with the sharp metal at the top, which for your information, was just a bit taller than me. I'm not that short thank you very much.

I glared at Mikey as I clutched the top of my head, my throat clenching up as the words _'What the hell was that for?'_ stuck there and refused to spill past my lips. Teachers and students passed behind us, some sounding excited to be able to get away from school for a long period of time, others just not giving a care in the world, wishing those in front of them to move out of their way.

I didn't dare even think about saying a word in front of any of them; my mouth wouldn't ever allow it anyways.

He gave me a small grin, squeezing his eyes shut in the process.

I rolled my eyes at him, turning back to my locker, ignoring the throbbing pain in the back of my head. Shifting a few binders and stray papers around at the very bottom of my locker, I finally found the damn book I had been searching for. I sighed loudly as I stood up, flicking through the pages just to see how _obnoxiously_ long the thing actually was before shoving it into my bag and linking my arms back through it. The second I slammed my locker back shut, I felt another yawn crawl up my throat which in turn caused my arms to raise above my head, my fingers linking together in midair as I stretched my stomach.

"That's fine, right?"

Mikey's voice scared me as he set his hand on my back. I jumped a bit, and quickly turned to face him.

I had been doing that all day; tuning people out. Well, to be honest, I did that almost everyday. To everyone but Mikey that is. Nobody was ever really talking to me anyways, so it was never really a big deal.

But it's not like I _wanted_ to ignore Mikey or anything, no. I was tired as hell and had been dozing off all day now. I couldn't sleep last night because of -- reasons, and I haven't had a chance to talk to Mikey yet. Though I didn't even know if I wanted to talk to him about it.

"Frank!"

My head shot up once again, this time I had been staring at my shoes, which for a fact needed to get thrown out, before raising my eyebrows at Mikey.

"Are you even listening to me?" he asked, waving his hand in front of my face. I swatted it away, only to make him laugh. "I take that as a 'no'."

I rolled my eyes, not really in the mood for his 'up beat' one, lightly pushing past him and making my way to the front doors.

"Frank," he whined, his shoes shuffling behind me, his body soon walking next to mine. "What's crawled up your ass?"

I shrugged, shaking my hair out of my eyes and shoving my hands into my jean pockets. But I also cringed at the irony his sentence had to do with what was bothering me.

Though I would then have to share what was actually bothering me. But I don't think I could ever tell Mikey I had a dream about his **brother**.

A -- dirty dream?

Hence why his statement about something ‘crawling up my ass’ was so ironic. 

I shook my head at the memory. I had no fucking clue why I would even think of dreaming about Gerard -- like that at least.

That's what I was thinking last night at one in the morning as I oh-so quietly snuck down to the basement with my sheets in attempts to wash them before my Mom woke up and asked questions. Thank the heavens above that she didn't. I ended up sitting up all night, down in the basement, racking my brain, trying to figure out why I had a dream about me and my best friend's older brother -- doing ' _it_ '.

Maybe because it was because I knew he would do something like that with a guy. He did tell Mikey he 'swung that way'.

Or maybe it was because when I was at his house yesterday, visiting Mikey _thank you very much_ , and I may have seen him singing and dancing around a bit -- racy -- in the kitchen when I was only going to the bathroom.

Maybe I didn't need to stare until he finished singing along with his own style of _Whitney Huston_

**Oh wanna dance with somebody  
I wanna feel the heat with somebody  
Yeah wanna dance with somebody  
With somebody who loves me**

His voice was nothing less than amazing, and he just kept shaking his hips, back and forth, back and forth, _back and fo--_

"FRANK! For Christ's sake! What the hell is wrong with you?" Mikey laughed, shoving his boney elbow into my side, causing me to wince, and once again be pulled from my daydream.

I stopped walking, finally noticing that we had left the building and we were standing outside in the schools snowy parking lot. I threw my arms out to the side, giving him my best annoyed look as if to say 'What?!'

He rolled his eyes before jutting his thumb to his left, towards the parking lot. "Gerard's picking us up."

My head shot towards where he was pointing, my eyes widening and my body freezing  
at the sight of Gerard leaning up against the side of his beat up car, a cigarette hanging off of his lips.

You know, another one of those cliché moments?

Mikey noticed that I wasn't about to lead the way over to him, so he grabbed my sleeve and dragged me through the snow to Gerard.

"Took you two long enough," Gerard laughed, throwing the rest of his cancer stick to the ground, smothering it with his beat up vans. He reached up and pulled the sides of his leather jacket tighter around him, apparently the buttons that ran up the middle of his jacket didn't work or something, before speaking once more. "Aren't you cold?"

My eyes widened once again before looking next to me to see Mikey looking at me, just like Gerard was, finally noticing that he had been talking to me. I looked down at my arms, realizing that I had forgotten my jean jacket in my locker, and that I was indeed cold.

I rubbed my goose bump covered arm, shrugging as I did so.

I watched Gerard roll his eyes before laughing. "Don't lie. There's a sweatshirt in the backseat if you want it," he turned around to open his door, but turned back before closing it. "And you need it."

++

"Did you buy the whole store?!"

I was now sitting at the Way's kitchen table, Gerard's black sweatshirt that had been laying in his backseat now covering my body. The smell of cigarettes and apple shampoo just dripped off of it, and I couldn't help love it. My face had been sitting in my arms for a while now, enjoying it, my eyes scanning the room now and again.

About four or five plastic bags sat on the counter, everything Mikey pulled out of it was a different flavor of coffee.

Gerard laughed, almost like I do. "Pretty much.”

I watched him push himself up onto the counter, his sock covered feet dangling off the side and lightly bumping into the cupboard door below him.

Mikey shook his head. "You know this isn't going to last long with us two in the house, right?"

I knew Mikey was addicted to coffee like he was going to die without it or something, but didn't know Gerard was too.

But I didn't know much about Gerard as it was, so I wouldn't know.

"You drink it too, Frank?" Gerard asked as he watched Mikey shove the coffee up into the cupboard above the sink with a bit of difficulty, before moving his view to me.

I met his eyes for a few seconds, my face never leaving my arms, before looking back down at my fingers, which were absentmindedly playing with the cuff of Gerard's sweatshirt. I shook my head.

Gerard gasped over-dramatically, the sound of him sliding off the counter and falling into the seat next to me followed. I looked up to see his eyes wide and mouth hung open in awe.

My own eyes grew as I shifted them down to my hands again, my face burning hot. Memories of my dream the night before rushed back into my head, and the face he was making just happened to be the one in my dream that I -- _came_ to.

If that makes any sense.

I felt so -- weird. That feeling I had last night was coming back, and I had no idea how to stop my problem from **popping** up.

So I just shoved my face completely into my arms, blocking his face out of view.

It helped a little.

"Aww, Frankie. You're not insane. You are just missing out on the best thing in the whole entire world," Gerard laughed, hitting me lightly in the arm.

_Frankie?_

I looked up briefly to see him send me a smirk before raising himself from his seat.

My pants suddenly became a whole lot tighter.

Holy shit, I need to get to the bathroom.


	10. Gerard

December 22nd, 1999   
**Monday;morning**

I let out a breath, it sounding somewhere in between confused and upset, and ran my fingers through my hair.

Or what was left of it.

Somehow my Mother had convinced me to get out of bed before noon, which is a stretch for both of us, and got me to meet her down at The Shop.

The Shop was where she worked as a hairdresser. She and three of her friends opened it up years ago, and since then has become one of the biggest haircut joints in our dinky town.

She had said something about buying me more art supplies if I got up and met up with her there. I was barely awake when she began explaining her plans for the day, but my selective hearing came into play, and that's all I really heard her say.

I could smell coffee lingering down the stairs, which by this time, I really needed, and once I had been woken up, I could never fall back to sleep.

I had somehow, half-asleep, gotten ready and drove my way to her Shop within the hour, successfully without spilling my coffee all over myself.

A new record for me, actually.

But when I saw my Mom eagerly standing next to one of those spinny chairs set up in front on those big tall mirrors and all the supplies, I finally woke up as she lifted up her arm, a pair of scissors in hand.

It had also only been _10:23_ in the fucking morning, which didn't help my mood one bit. Nobody else was in the Shop, which gave me the hint that it was too early to be there.

So now, at 11:09, still the fucking morning, I sat in that same chair, trying not to scream at the woman standing behind me. I love her dearly, and she knows this. But I also loved my hair dearly, _and she knew that_.

She and Mikey had been telling me for the last year to get it cut, Mom especially because that is her job and all, but I always refused. It had finally gotten just past my shoulders, and I actually liked it that long.

Now it sat just below my ears, whatever fruity gel my Mom had lying around mixed in it, causing the ends to stick away from my face. I squinted my eyes at the reflection, slipping just a bit further down in my seat as I turned my head from side to side; inspecting.

I whined, closing my eyes as I did so.

I got slapped on the top of my head. "Grow up will you," my Mom laughed, unbuttoning the cape-like thing from around my neck, shaking the hair that still stuck to it to the ground. "It looks lovely, right girls?"

The three other women who were spread around the Shop, sweeping or cleaning at the moment, reacted to her call in different ways.

"Of course, Dear!"

"Yes! It's adorable, Sweetheart!"

"If I was twenty years younger, I'd tap that."

I burst out laughing, spinning in my seat towards the back of the shop. Ruth, one of my families closest friends sat in a chair directly next to the rinsing sinks, a gossip magazine blocking her face from my view.

She was a few years older than my Mom, making her well into her fifties, but she still acted and talked like she was my age. One of the best old people I know, hands down.

"Ruth, please stop hitting on my son," my Mom sighed, smiling as she began sweeping up my hair from the ground. My precious hair.

"I am so sorry. Truthfully, I am. I just can't keep my eyes off of him though, Donna," Ruth sighed dreamily, dropping her magazine into her lap and lulling her head to the side, eyes on me.

Other people may find this a bit weird, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary for me. It actually happened a lot.

So I gave her a small wave and smile in return before batting my eyelashes and turning back to the mirror in front of me.

I sighed once again at the sight. I didn't really know what to think about the sudden change yet, the change not only being the length, but the fact that you could actually see my face. It usually hid behind my big grease mess, but now it was actually clean and out of my face.

A change, which I think I _may_ like in the future.

My palms poked the side of my head, the hair that stuck out amusing me at the moment.

"Gerard," my chair spun at the mention of my name, my body flying the opposite way the chair was going, before stopping abruptly. I groaned as my Mom began using one of those duster things to get the access hair off of my neck, which tickled like mad.

"Ma, quit. Stop it," I ordered, or at least tried, to. The fact that my voice shot up three octaves at the end didn't help.

"My oh my. You complain more than your brother does. Which reminds me," she finished with her torture, setting the duster thing down on her table, beginning to empty her apron pockets out that contained all of her supplies, as she continued talking. "You need to go pick up him and Frank up at the mall. They're doing a bit of last minute Christmas shopping. I'm here until seven tonight, so you'll have to entertain them until then."

I stood from my seat, taking one last look in the mirror, before grabbing my jacket from the chair next to the one I was just occupying, and slipping it on. "Why the hell are they at the mall this early? Do they ever sleep? And what? Are they three or something? Why do they have to be entertained all the time?"

I watched my Mom close her eyes at my continuous childlike behavior, whining like I always do.

She pointed to the front door, shaking her head. "Just go."

I laughed, before rolling my eyes and nodding. I gave her a hug, saying goodbye to the girls working in the shop, earning a wolf whistle from Ruth on the way out the door.

++

Mikey's shrill scream filled the small confines of my car as he threw himself in.

I let my head fall to the side lazily, a clear sign of annoyance plastered on my face. I watched as he laughed to himself in the passengers seat, slapping his knee like there was no tomorrow. "You finally cut off that mop, huh? How’d she talk you into that one?”

“Bribery,” I growled, reaching behind me and buckling myself back in.

“Art supplies?” He began laughing when I nodded. “She used my idea! Oh yeah!”

"You're fucking annoying," I grunted, turning the key that was still sitting in the ignition. Putting the car into reverse, I turned in my seat, my arm going behind the passenger's seat like always, my eyes finally setting on the boy in the backseat. I let out a small smile, lifting the fingers on my hand behind the headrest of Mikey's seat in some sort of wave. "Hey, Frank."

He looked up and shot me back a small smile before dropping his eyes back to his fingers that were currently sitting in his lap, along with a small plastic bag.

Finally the car had backed out of the space I had been sitting in for twenty minutes, and I quickly made my way through the packed lot. Mom had told the two to be ready to get picked up at noon, but being Mikey Way, he was always late. So I ended up sitting in the lot for an extra fifteen minutes than I should have.

"You guys are late," I mumbled, silently cursing at my broken radio as I turned out of the lot and stopped at the red light a ways down the street.

"For once, Gerard, it was not my fault," Mikey piped up, squirming around in his seat under the restraints of his seat belt. He quickly stuck his head between both of our seats, just above the middle console, and let out a laugh. "It was Frank's fault."

I let out a small laugh, talking a look at the mirror right outside my door, before merging onto the highway, leading back towards home. "I'm sure. Coming from you Mikes, I totally believe it."

Mikey scoffed, turning back around in his seat to face me. "Whatever. He took forever in the music store, picking out a new guitar strap," he rambled off, unable to sit still for more than a few seconds.

He had coffee this morning; a lot of it.

"Wait," I spoke, pausing to switch lanes on the road, before continuing. "Christmas is in what, three days, and you're buying yourself stuff?" I looked up to find Frank's reflection in my rear view mirror, watching him turn red and shrug his small shoulders, still staring at his lap.

Aww.

"Isn't there some sort of rule against that or something?"

"Apparently only for you Gee," Mikey laughed, turning around in his seat once again and began speaking to Frank. "Mom always bitched at him, cause every year he'd go out to pick up presents for others, but then he'd end up buying shit for himself. The stuff he got ended up being the same stuff she had bought for him, so now she basically told him he's not allowed to buy anything for himself before Christmas ever again."

I rolled my eyes at Mikey's long, and exaggerated story. Sure it's true -- but whatever.

"No, but Gee," Mikey stopped to turn back around, again, and put on a high pitched, annoying voice, curling his lip up as he spoke. "Frankie dear here already got his Christmas present from his Mommy deares -- ouch, fucker!" Mikey cried, before he reached over the side of his seat in attempts to hit the boy who had just kicked the back of his chair.

"Hey hey. Quit it children," I stated, trying on the 'authority' figure voice that I've had to hear from my parents thousands of times before.

"Whatever. We have to stop off at Frank's before we go home. He's giving me his old strap, and I want to see his new puppy!" Mikey squealed, quickly beginning to ramble off directions to Frank's house as I got off the highway on our exit.

Turning on some very familiar streets, I noticed that Frank didn't live far from our house at all. When I was told to do so, I stopped and parked in front of a small home, a large, over-sized tree, covered in snow, was placed almost smack-dab in the middle of the lawn, directly next to a small walking path that lead right up to the homes bright yellow front door. The trim of the entire one story home was that same bright, sun like yellow, and as I opened up my door and pushed myself out of the car, I became curious to know why that bright color was necessary.

I shook my head, locking the car and followed the two boys up the small, winding, snow covered path. Stepping up the four stairs to the front door, I entered quickly to escape the freezing cold that seemed to sneak into my warm coat, sending a shiver down my spine, before running my eyes over the bright door, which up close, really began to hurt my eyes as I shut it behind me.

"Frank, dear? Is that you?" A voice called from somewhere in the house.

I watched Mikey take off his shoes and coat before doing so myself. I guess we would be staying for a while.

"Yeah, Linda. It's us," Mikey called back, motioning for me to follow behind him, Frank leading the way, still clutching his plastic bag.

Walking down the hall, I couldn't help but notice how – boring -- everything was. The walls were a pure white, almost as blinding at the yellow on the front door. Upon entering what looked like the living room, though, my eyes widened just that much further. I didn't even want to walk through it, afraid that the ends of my jeans, which happened to get wet while walking outside, would stain the perfect white carpet. The light brown sofa sat against the far wall, pillows set up in a perfect line across its cushions. A small table lay just in front of that. And that was it. The walls white, nothing hanging on them and no television.

I snapped out of whatever trance I had fallen into, noticing that the other two had left the room. I scurried in the direction we had been heading, finding myself entering the cleanest kitchen I had ever set eyes on. The counters were almost shining as I stepped foot into the room. I looked down at my clothes, grimacing at how dirty they actually looked compared to where I was. I felt so out of place.

"And who might you be?"

My head snapped up, my eyes meeting the sight of a short, older woman, dressed in a bright yellow apron, grinning like mad up at me. The lady must just love the color. I smiled back, jamming my hands into my jeans pockets, something I always did when I was nervous. "Gerard. I'm Mikey's brother."

She put a finger to her lips, nodding her head. "You two do look a bit alike. Well, I'm Linda, Frank's Mother. It's a great pleasure to meet you!" She smiled once more, reaching forward and embracing me in a hug. My hands flew from inside of my pockets to hug back, but before I could even wrap my arms back around her, she slipped away from me. I smiled awkwardly, tucking my hands back into my pockets, before searching the room for Mikey.

"Dear, the boys went right through that door, and down the hall. Frank's room is the last door on the left," she smiled up at me, blowing a strand of hair that fell from her high ponytail, before turning back to flipping through the cookbook I had interrupted her from reading beforehand.

I nodded quickly, shuffling my feet towards the other side of the kitchen and through the doorway that lead me into the hall that I had just walked through not moments ago. Following her directions, I carefully knocked on the last door on the left, before turning the knob and entering.

So, as expected, Frank's bedroom wasn't any less clean then the rest of his house. It had more things in it though, but still. Who in their right mind would be able to keep everything _this_ clean.

Apparently not me.

A loud 'yipping' filled my ears, followed by my brother's laugh.

"Gee, look!"

I averted my eyes from the plain, blinding white walls to Mikey, who sat on the perfectly made bed of his best friend, clutching the most adorable puppy I've ever seen.

I smiled, sticking my bottom lip out as I 'Awwed', closing the door behind me, something I had forgotten to do when I entered before.

The puppy looked no older than a few months, and by the way it was squirming around, its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and the whimpering and whining coming from its mouth, it had to be around that age.

Mikey looked like he was having difficulty holding the dog in his lap, and the animal didn't look like he, or she, even wanted to be there in the first place.

I swatted Mikey's hands away, quickly scooping the small Golden Retriever up into my own arms, staying standing in fear of messing up the perfectly made bed next to me.

"How adorable," I cooed, letting out a small squeak as its tongue came into contact with my lips.

Okay, it _was_ adorable. It's gone a bit too far.

I shook my head, craning my neck to escape the slobber. "Frankie, what's the puppy's name?"

I quickly froze, regretting saying that.

I knew he couldn't answer me.

After reading about Frank's -- disorder -- on Ray's computer, I think I actually learned a lot from the site.

_Children (and adults) with the disorder are fully capable of speech and understanding language, but can fail to speak in certain social situations when it is expected of them. It ranges in presentation from a reluctance to speak in certain situations to physical and social ‘frozen’ unresponsiveness._

_It is like an extreme form of shyness, but the intensity and duration distinguish it._

Frank is probably one of the shyest people I've ever met, and reading about the description on the website, everything I read describes him almost to a point.

_A difficulty in maintaining eye contact._

He's constantly staring at his hands, and rarely looks at me in the face.

_A reluctance to smile and a tendency to have a blank facial expressions._

I think that's how he answers people, by smiling, and afterwords, doesn't know what to do next.

_Clinging behavior._

I actually haven't seen that from him much, aside from Mikey. Which I would believe it would be something Frank would do, because he happened to be one of the only people he talked to.

_Compulsive traits, even Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder._

I stopped and began to think. I suppose that links to how clean his entire house is. And upon noticing how clean this house is, I've noticed my own house beginning to clear up a bit. Perhaps that also linked back to Frank too. He was over there almost everyday.

The dog's 'yipping' broke me from my thoughts, my head jerking down to the person standing next to me. Frank was avoiding eye contact, like usual, and was gripping onto the dog's collar. I used the hand that wasn't holding the dog up, taking the small metal dog bone charm that hung off the collar into my own hands, squinting down to read the small letters.

**Princess**

"Aww!" I cooed for the second time, gripping the dog under its two front legs, lifting the small creature up so our noses were touching. "How cute!"

The puppy began licking my nose with over-excitement, her, I'm guessing from the name, body wriggling around and almost falling from my grip. Mikey snorted. "You sound so gay, Gerard."

I pulled _Princess_ away from my face, tucking her securely under my arm, before raising my eyebrows down at my brother. "And?"

He just rolled his eyes, letting them fall on Frank's form across the room. I followed not soon after, setting the puppy down as I did so. I watched her trot over to Frank, who was sitting at his clean desk, playing around with the strap on his guitar.

I had tried to learn the guitar once upon a time, and my acoustic guitar wasn't half as fancy as his. I was shit at playing it, and also with naming guitar brands, but from what I could see, it looked pretty fucking expensive, and looked like he took good care of it. And just like every other thing in this house; it was white.

The puppy began jumping up on his leg, trying to draw his attention away from his guitar and onto her. It worked, Frank smiling down at the small animal before setting his guitar back into its open case, shutting it before reaching down and scooping her up into his arms.

I was suddenly curious how he was going to handle keeping the dog from making a mess in his clean home, because everyone knew that the main things puppies do is make a mess of absolutely everything. I was curious if he actually _had_ OCD, or if it was just his Mother's crazy habits or something. But after a few good scratches behind both ears, he set Princess down and began tidying up his already clean room. That seemed to answer my question.

I shot a glance down at Mikey, who was now entertaining himself with the guitar strap that Frank had thrown at him. Mikey was trying to learn bass, and had gotten himself one before I left for college, but I was still to hear him actually play something.

Quickly getting annoyed with the _tick-tick ticking_ of the puppy's claws on the hardwood floors, Mikey's quiet humming, and Frank's constant cleaning, I spoke up.

"Hey Frank? How about we start those art lessons, eh?"


	11. Frank

December 25th, 1999  
 **Thursday;afternoon**

I smiled slightly, though it was pretty much forced, and let my gaze fall to my feet before reaching out in front of me and gripping onto the back of my Mom's winter jacket. I tugged lightly, letting her know I needed her attention, and she quickly turned away from her current conversation with one of my Aunts; one of her own sisters, and pulled my hand off of her jacket to enclose it in her own.

I'm eighteen years old, and I still need my Mother to hold my hand.

How fucking pathetic am I?

But it made me feel, safe almost, and that's all I cared about right now.

I let out a breath that I didn't even know I was holding, before reluctantly following her, my clammy hands beginning to shake even more than when we arrived less than five minutes ago.

Christmas. Some see it as the birth of Jesus Christ and go off and attend Church to celebrate the day, while others find it more of a day of gathering, like my family does. This is the one day out of the whole year that my Mom's side of the family get together for gifts and a dinner made for about fifty people, when in reality, there are only like, twenty people at her house.

My Auntie Laurie always makes too much food. But she makes sure she gets rid of it all though; walking around the dinner table with the pans of food, filling anyone's plate that had room for more.

I always went home sick after her Christmas dinner.

Passing through the living room, we met up with Auntie Laurie, who was just as upbeat as ever. She made sure to give me a hug, breaking contact with my Mom for just a few seconds, but felt like so much longer. She let me go, ruffling my hair as I connected myself back onto my Mom, listening to my Aunt babble on about how Uncle George, their brother, wouldn't make it to dinner tonight due to a tragic accident that happened this morning with him and a ladder. I wanted to ask why their eldest brother, who had to be around fifty or so, would be up on a ladder at nine in the morning, fixing his Christmas lights. I kept it to myself though. It wasn't like I could share my thoughts or anything.

Auntie Laurie heard her name being called out from the kitchen, and she quickly beckoned us to follow. My Mom tugged me along behind her, and I followed.

I pulled my jean jacket closer to my body , silently wishing it was someone else's sweatshirt, as we squeezed through people, Auntie Laurie's house wasn't that big at all, and cramming everyone into three or four rooms didn't help the traffic in the halls. We made our way down the hall, stopping in the living room entrance, a mob of people kept us from moving into the kitchen. Kids littered the entire room, most looking like they were under the age of fifteen.

My Mom came from a pretty big family; four sisters and three brothers. She was the youngest out of all eight kids, so all of her siblings had kids, some of her older brothers had kids who had their own kids. I could barely keep track anymore, and it wasn't like I see my family all the time. Christmas is the only time.

I think it's okay if I slack off.

I watched as they fought with each other over a video game controller, a full out brawl almost following. One of the small boys, who I think was Uncle Drew's kid, threw down his controller, and launched himself from one side of the couch, over two other kids, and landed on top of another. They both went for each others hair, and ended up toppling to the ground with a 'thud'. I quickly looked over my Mom's shoulder into the kitchen, wondering if anybody was going to come out and keep these _demon children_ from killing each other. Everyone was talking, and talking, and talking, and didn't even seem to hear the disturbance in the other room. I let my gaze move back into the room, but pulled it back just as quick. They were knocking shit off the tables making a fucking mess, and I knew if I stood and watched any longer, I'd have to go in their and clean it all up.

They'd just have another reason to stare at their 'weird cousin'.

I moved myself further down the hall, accidentally stepping on the back of my Mom's foot in the process. She inhaled quickly, lifting her foot off of the ground in instinct, turning to face me. But seeing my face, which I hoped passed for upset and scared shitless, she shook her head lightly, giving my hand a quick squeeze. She reached up, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face. "We'll leave after gifts Sweetie, okay?"

I nodded quickly, my eyes widening to show how much I liked her suggestion, before I rested my head on her shoulder, as we continued to wait in hall traffic. Gifts were after dinner, so it wouldn’t be too long.

I hoped.

"Aww, Linda! And Frankie, dear! Look at you!"

I froze at the voice, gripping my Mom's hand tighter, my forehead pressing harder against her shoulder, the top of my head pressing into her neck.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched my Grandma push her was through people, out of the kitchen and towards us. The apron she wore around her waist was covered in pasta sauce and dough, and as she approached us, she began to shake her head, smiling like there was no tomorrow.

"Frankie darling! My, my, you are getting big!" she laughed, the large glasses that adorned her face slid down her nose. She let them sit at the end of her nose before tearing me away from my Mom and burying me in one of those 'Grandma hugs'. The ones that never seem to end.

Ever.

She continued to babble on to me like I was four, about how adorable I've become, and how she wanted to just pinch my cheeks. Which she ended up doing anyways.

"Oh we have so much to talk about Linda. Frankie! You come too."

I frowned as she grabbed my hand, pulling me and my Mom, who I had grabbed onto as I was getting pulled away, and dragged into the kitchen.

Upon shooing everyone out of the kitchen, though it wasn't even her house, my Grandma went back to her cooking as me and my Mom sat down at the stools around the island in the kitchen. They began to talk, and talk, and _talk_ as Grandma kept cooking, occasionally yelling at anybody who tried to enter the kitchen, claiming that they were ruining her concentration. But when Auntie Laurie made her way in, Grandma had her take over the cooking so she could join us at the table.

She and my Mom sat on one side, as I sat on the other, elbow in the table, chin in my palm. I tried not to look bored out of my mind as they discussed Uncle George's possible broken hip, but it was hard not too.

I had never been close to my Grandma, or anybody in my family for that matter, but the way she kept talking to me, it felt like I'd spent my whole life with her or something. She kept calling me 'Frankie', and it was starting to annoy me. I only let my Mom and Mikey call me that.

Well, Gerard started calling me that too, but that was a different story.

Kinda.

I shook my head as began thinking about him again; something I've been doing a lot lately.

Especially since Monday.

Ugh, I didn't even want to start thinking about Monday again.

*******

"Ick, Mikey. That is fucking disgusting."

Mikey's eyes widened, mumbled words fell from his mouth, along with a stream of chocolate sauce. He stood up from the couch quickly, the substance just missing his leg and falling to the carpet.

I snorted from my seat at the opposite end of the couch as Mikey cussed, mouth still full, before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and skidded into the kitchen, mouth to the ceiling in case anything else fell from it.

Gerard began laughing from his spot on the loveseat, which sat on Mikey's side of the couch. It was almost as girly as my own, yes I admit I have a girly laugh, and it caused me to join in.

After leaving my house, Gerard thought it would be a good idea to stop off at the grocery store to pick up stuff for ice cream sundaes. Mikey went insane with the chocolate syrup and different flavors of ice cream, and as I looked down at my bowl, I couldn't even remember what kinds I used to make it. It now just looked like a big blob of -- stuff.

Setting my bowl down on the coffee table, I sat further back on the couch and swung my legs up onto the couch, pulling the sweatshirt that I was wearing tighter around my body.

I had 'forgotten' to grab one on the way out of my house, and when we made it back to Gerard's car, I realized that he hadn't left one in the backseat like he had before and silently cursed because I knew that his car's heating didn't work all that well. Though when he saw me shivering in the back of his car through his rear-view mirror blocks away from my house, he first questioned how I could have forgotten one in this weather before coming to a halt at a red light, slipping off his jacket and bright red zip-up sweatshirt underneath, throwing it back to me.

Drawing my knees up to my chin, I hid my smiling face behind them, inhaling his scent off of the sweatshirt, as I shot quick glances over to Gerard, who was now making himself another sundae, this one not as large as his first.

He had cut his hair earlier today, but he didn't seem to like it much. I liked it much better cut; I could see his eyes now that they weren't hidden behind a wall of black hair.

Now I sound like a teenage girl or something.

He used both of his hands to squeeze the chocolate syrup bottle, and by the airy sounds it was making, made me believe that it was all gone. Gerard didn't look happy about it though.

"Fuck you Michael! You ate it all!" he whined, letting the bottle fall from his hands, and bounce onto the table. Mikey shouted back a response, but he had traveled from the kitchen, and further into the house, so I couldn't make it out. The bottle oozed the last bit of sauce from the opening at the top, and made a small puddle on the table. Gerard's index finger quickly wiped it up and it disappeared into his mouth.

My eyes grew wide and I tightened my grip on the cuffs of his sweatshirt, watching him get lost in thought; his eyes glued to the ceiling as he continued to suck the chocolate off of his finger.

So over the last week or so, or since my first dream about him, I've come to the conclusion that I have a crush of my best friend's older brother. And yes, I've had more than one dream. I still haven't told Mikey, and I sure as hell was not going to talk to my Mother about this. I had absolutely no idea how to identify with these weird feelings I was having towards him, because face it; I've never actually felt like this about anybody. Especially since it was for another guy. I know of kids at my school that get the shit beat out of them for being gay, so I had always told myself that I wouldn't want to be one of those people; getting beat up for my sexual orientation, plus because I couldn't say anything to ever defend myself. I've never spoken to a female at school, or course, and even those who cared to look my way always had to have those snide comments about how 'freakish' I was.

So in all, I really had no idea 'which was I swung', as Gerard put it, but all I knew was that, in some odd way, I was attracted to the man sitting in front of me, who was now looking over at me, confused expression etched on his face.

"Did you hear me?"

I made quick eye contact, raising my eyebrows, before finding his white long-sleeved shirt quite interesting.

He let out a small laugh, scooting farther forward on his seat, arms resting on his legs. "Are you going to finish that?" He motioned to my unfinished ice cream.

I caught his gaze once more, before shaking my head. He grinned, leaning forward and snatched the bowl up. He gripped the spoon I had left in the bowl and mixed it around a bit, still sitting on the edge of his seat, before scoffing.

"You were the one who took all of the chocolate sauce, not Mikey!" he laughed, sending me a small glare, before scooping up a spoonful of the ice cream and shoving it in his mouth.

I smiled a bit and buried my face into my arms, my eyes still visible, concealing my bright red face. I just had that spoon in my mouth, and now it was in his.

Wow.

He scooped a bit more into his mouth before setting the bowl back down onto the table, pushing himself up from his seat, patting his stomach and groaning. "I ate too much."

I let out a soft laugh, nodding my head. I did too.

"So," he started, scratching the back of his head quickly. "You want to draw now?"

I shrugged, but then nodded. He smiled and nodded back, making his way to the kitchen to get to the basement, but Mikey's shouting stopped him. "After I deal with him, we'll start."

I nodded again, watching him walk off down the hall to, I presumed, Mikey's room.

I slid further into the couch, using the arm rest as a pillow, stretching my legs out and taking up the whole space. Footsteps were heard once again, and soon both brothers came around the corner. Gerard smiled at me, before disappearing into the kitchen, to his room. Mikey followed just behind him, looking quite flustered as he attempted to pin something to his shirt. I coughed loudly to get his attention.

His head snapped up, and eyes went wide. "Shit Frank. I forgot I had work at three. Gerard's going to drive me there real fast, but then he'll come back and do these lesson things," he waved his hands about before going back to pinning what I had seen was his name tag.

**Mikey Way  
How May I Help You?**

I sat up too quick, my stomach being filled with all the ice cream was starting to make me feel sick.

He couldn't leave. He couldn't leave me with him. He couldn't leave me with him, **alone.**

He needed to be here.

I shook my head back and forth, pushing myself up from the couch, stepping over to him to tug on his shirt sleeve.

"What, Frankie, I have to go! Walt is going to fire me if I'm late one more tim-- What?" his eyebrows crinkled together, his fingers freezing.

My head continued to sway back and forth, my hands now sitting on his shoulders began to shake. He couldn't leave me.

"Frank!" he snapped his fingers in front of my face, his own hands going up to rest on my shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Air wouldn't come fast enough through my nose, so I had to use my mouth instead, and it was in that instant that I realized I was shaking all over.

"Christ, Frank, calm down," Mikey whispered, his eyes darting around my face. His hands moved to both sides of my head, stopping it from moving back and forth, but the rest of my body kept shaking, and it felt way too heavy to hold up anymore.

His arms quickly dropped from my face to under my arms as I collapsed to the floor, trying his hardest to soften my fall. He dropped to his knees beside me, my breaths becoming more labored than before, and soon enough I was almost gasping for it.

"Frankie," Mikey whimpered, his eyes larger than ever, as he pulled me over to the couch, resting my back against the side. My hair was plastered to my face, sweat now covering most of my body as I gripped the carpet, my knuckles turning white. "What's happening? What--what am I supposed to do?"

My throat felt like it was closing up as I lent my head backwards to rest on the side of the couch, my eyes beginning to water.

"Mikey! Get your ass in the car! I can't fuckin' drive **that** fast," Gerard laughed, but it quickly stopped as I heard him enter the living room. "What the fuck?"

"Gee!" Mikey cried, scrambling to his feet as I watched through half lidded eyes, my breaths sounding more like quick pants as the seconds past. "I--I don't know. Gee, help--I don't know what's wrong."

Mikey's voice was higher than normal, strangled almost, and it scared me even more. My chin began to quiver as my whole body continued to shake, and I could feel tears fall down my face faster than I could attempt to hold them back.

What was happening to me?

"Shit, Frank," Gerard's voice floated into my ears, closer than I expected. My eyes shot open, only to be met with his. He was knelt to my left, his jacket abandoned next to him. He raised his hand to push hair off of my forehead before turning back to Mikey. "Get some water, okay?"

His voice was so calm that it began to scare me once again, and reached up with a shaking hand to wipe away the tears soaking my already sweat streaked face. Mikey rose from the floor, eyes still big and not looking away from my face. "Gee," he whimpered, reaching up to wipe away the tears that were running down his own face.

I made him cry.

I closed my eyes once again, my lungs calling for air like never before.

"What's going on Gerard?" Mikey whispered.

"He's having a panic attack Mikey. Just go get water, okay? He's going to be fine," he assured his brother, his hand now resting on my own.

If I wasn't already breathing out of whack, I would have started to now.

I heard Mikey shuffle out of the room, and Gerard then gripped my hand with his own, raising it to his chest.

"Frank," he voiced, squeezing my fingers. I didn't open my eyes until I felt him grip my chin, turning my face towards him. My eyes found his, and never moved. "Frank," he pushed hair off of my forehead once again, before resting his hand on the side of my face.

"See how I'm breathing?" he pressed my hand harder against his chest, so I was able to feel how even his breathing was. I nodded quickly, gripping his white shirt with my fingers.

"Breathe with me Frank. Just relax, and breathe with me," he whispered, rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. I tried my hardest to do as I was told, but because of how close he was to me, I think my breathing sped up just that much more.

"Frankie," he said, more firmly than before, gripping my chin once more, his face now closer than ever as he rested his forehead against my own. "You need to calm down, okay? Breathe just like I am."

I couldn't look away from his eyes, no matter how hard it was; no matter if I was almost cross-eyed from them being so close to my face. But soon enough, my breathing began to calm down, and my body followed suit. Gerard pulled his forehead off of my own, his slick with my sweat, but he didn't seem to care at all. His eyes scanned my face quickly as he sat back on his feet, his thumb wiping away tears that continued to fall down my face, though they were slowly decreasing in number. I finally broke eye contact to rest my head back on the couch once again, my eyes closing, but my hand stayed clamped onto his shirt.

"Frank?"

I felt another body fall to my side, and soon Mikey had pulled me up and into his arms.

"Fuck, Frankie. I--I won't leave, okay? I'll call in--or something. Okay?" Mikey mumbled into my ear, and I nodded tiredly, laying my head down on his shoulder, noticing the bottle of water he must have brought with him sitting on the ground.

I looked up at Gerard as he took hold of my hand on his shirt, and I quickly let go of it, but he never let go of my hand. He reached up with his free hand, fixing my hair that had gotten messed up during my little 'episode', before smiling. I returned it quick before closing my tired eyes, silently cursing that I had ruined my 'art lesson' with my crush, and the rest of the day for my best friend. 

***

"Frank! Sweetheart, are you even listening to me?"

I blinked my eyes a few times, before turning my head to the voice. My chin still sat in my palm, though it was now rested on the counter-top. I sat up fast, giving my full attention to my Mom, who I had tuned out when I had zoned out for a few minutes. I shot her a small, apologetic smile.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. She motioned over to the stove, which Grandma stood at, scooping pasta onto plates, my family lined up behind her.

"Time to eat Frankie. We can go after gifts, okay?”

I nodded tiredly, taking her hand as she offered it.

I just wanted to go home.


	12. Gerard

December 27nd, 1999   
_**Saturday;afternoon** _

I yawned, scratching the side of my head and ruffling my hair up just that much more then it already was, almost loosing my balance as I made my way up the basement stairs. I stopped for a split second; my arms wavering at my sides, my eyes barely open, before I felt steady enough the make it up the last couple stairs.

The bright light from the other side of the door caused me to groan, and close my eyes completely, before slamming the door shut behind me.

"Good morning, Sunshine!"

I groaned once more at my Mom's sarcastic greeting, blindly making my way through the kitchen to the table, hands stuck out in front of me to feel where I was going.

"Well, technically Gerard, it's two in the afternoon," she snorted from across the room, the sink running and the occasional 'clink' a piece of silverware filling the room.

I grunted in response. I wasn't a morning person -- or afternoon person.

I enjoy my sleep.

"Mikey tried to wake you up this morning," she spoke, the faucet turning off directly after.

"Neat," I mumbled, turning my head to rest on its side rather than my forehead. I heard my Mom sigh before the sound of clinking silverware filled the room once more.

Now that I thought more about it, I do remember Mikey trying to wake me up this morning. It was like one of those things, that you thought you dreamt about, but never actually did.

And I suppose that if he wouldn't have practically ripped the door off the top of the steps, stomped down them much louder than necessary, and didn't click my light on and off a hundred times, I may have kindly responded to his "Lazy ass, where the hell are your keys?"

But instead, all I remember is me lying face down in my bed, and the second he finished asking his question, I felt him hovering over me, so I let my arm that had been hanging off the side of my bed connect with his stomach.

Taught him a lesson I suppose. He knows that I would never let him take my car, no matter how shitty it already is. That kid can't drive to save his life.

I realized that I hadn't even looked to see if my keys, that I had left sitting down on my desk, were even there when I woke up. I quickly sat up in my chair, head beginning to pound at the quick movement. "He didn't take my car, did he?"

Mom was hidden by a cupboard door as she put away dishes, but moved so I was able to see her shake her head. I sighed and leaned back in the chair, my head lulling backwards. "Good."

I heard her sigh also, though hers was out of annoyance, before she spoke again. "He told me you hit him and then made me feel extra sorry for him."

I laughed lightly, lifting my head back up to watch her dry more dishes. "So you caved and let him take your car?"

She rolled her eyes, disappearing behind another high cupboard door to quickly put away a plate and shutting it again. She took the drying towel sitting on the counter and tossed it across the room, where it landed in my lap. "Start drying, smartass."

I groaned, not only from her request, but because the towel was cold and wet against my bare legs.

It was then that I noticed that I was still in my boxers. I felt my face turn hot as I raised my eyes to meet my Mom, slowly pulling the towel from my lap to cover my half naked body. I watched her roll her eyes as the cold towel didn't really help cover much up, and it was cold and making me shiver. "It's not like I've never seen you naked before."

I shook my head, throwing the towel up onto the kitchen table before letting my head fall to it also.

"Mom, can we not talk about Gerard naked please? That's just gross."

A "Fuck you Michael" fell from my lips as I heard my little brother enter the room.

"Language, Gerard. Especially with guests in the house," Mom tutted, making sure to slap the back of my head as she spoke.

I lifted my head to look behind me, my neck cracking in the process, to see what 'guests' were in my house watching me whine and complain in my underwear.

In the doorway between the living room and kitchen, Frank stood awkwardly, his head hung low as he watched his sock covered feet shuffle around beneath him. He clutched a pretty large plastic bag in one hand while his other hand was tucked away the pocket of his hoodie.

Or rather, my hoodie.

A smile made its way onto my face as I realized that Frank had probably worn that hoodie more times than I have.

"Hey, Frankie."

I watched his face turn bright red as he raised his head just a bit, showing that he heard me speak. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth; the metal ring in his lip knocking against his teeth.

I'm pretty sure this kid is adorable.

The funny thing was that this kid was all I thought about the last few days. Ever since his little episode in our living room the other day, his face won't leave my head.

"Gerard, go put some clothes on," Mikey mumbled, taking a seat at the table kiddy-corner to me. I noticed that he too had a bag with him, though it was significantly smaller than the one Frank had.

I ignored Mikey's request, mostly to annoy him, but also because Mom had continued to bicker about me drying the dishes, complaining that by the time I got around to it, it would be dinnertime.

I rose from my seat, grabbing the towel as I did so. "What's with the bags?" I questioned, making my way to the dish drainer. Mom excused herself, saying she needed to go and grab a few things from her room.

"None of your business," Mikey smiled, motioning for Frank to sit down in my previously spot, before turning back to me. "Why are you so nosey?"

I shrugged, ducking down to stash away a frying pan in a lower cabinet. "Why are you hiding something?"

Mikey chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not."

I raised an eyebrow as I turned to face the two at the table. Behind them in the doorway was what caught my eye though; Mom was shuffling into the living room with bright red bags decorated with bright green ribbon.

It was then that I remembered what today was. Frank been away with his family during Christmas, and apparently been busy with them for the last few days, and he and Mikey had decided to get together and do their own Christmas type thing together. Mom had overheard Mikey talking about it, and decided to make a whole big deal out of it, and though we never decorated the house with lights or even a tree, she had made sure to put it all up yesterday just for this occasion. I, for one, thought it was a bit over the top for her to do all of that, but she didn't seem to care one bit. She had me in the kitchen all day yesterday baking cookies with her as she rambled on about how she had bought Frank and Mikey matching winter hats, and how she thought they were going to look so adorable in them. I nodded along, ignoring the obnoxious, repetitive Christmas music coming from the radio she had set up in the corner of the room, silently wishing Mikey was doing this instead.

Last night I worked on a drawing for Frank; that being half the reason why I didn’t wake up until early afternoon. Actually, it was more of a drawing of him. Kinda like the one I had drawn for Mikey.

"Is that my present Michael?" I grinned, balling up the towel and tossing it onto the counter.

He grinned shyly, shrugging his shoulders, and he lightly pushed the bag he had carried into the house under his chair.

I glared. "You forgot to get me a present until after Christmas, is that it?"

His eyes darted around the room, purposefully avoiding me, and he shrugged again.

I shook my head disapprovingly. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you Michael."

"You can start by not calling me 'Michael' anymore," he grinned up at me, trying to use his 'sad, I'm adorable' eyes that only work on our Mom. I shook my head.

"No thanks, Michael."

He flipped me the bird as he pushed himself up from the table, his name being called from the other room. He grabbed the bags he and Frank had brought into the kitchen, and disappeared into the living room.

Frank up until this point, had gone pretty unnoticed by me, which was actually a really big deal, due to how much I had been thinking about the kid for the last few days.

And there is a difference between thinking about someone, and _thinking_ about someone.

And I've really been _thinking_ about the boy sitting in front of me, his head hung low, and that faint clicking of his lip ring on his teeth echoing through the room. I can't be blamed though; I'm an openly gay guy and I think I'm allowed to think about any guy I want. Correct? Frank's adorable, I suppose even attractive, and I can't help but think about him that way.

And now that I was alone with him, those thoughts I've been having about him are just making me feel awkward.

I didn’t want him to have another attack like the other day; it did happen last time because Mikey left the room.

It wasn't just because of that though. Frank's eyes had begun to flicker around the room as I continued to stare at him, occasionally landing on me. I suddenly because very self conscious, seeing as I was only in my underwear, and I was somewhat infatuated with the kid. And ever since the name calling back in high school, I've never really been happy with my body, even though I knew I wasn't big now like I was back then.

I crossed my arms across my chest. Frank's eyes switched from staring at my feet to my crossed arms, and back again, and I didn't know what to do, so I slowly began to shuffle towards the basement door.

"I'm gonna go -- uhh, change now," I stuttered, inwardly cursing myself for being so stupid. "I'll be back. --yeah."

I quickly opened the basement door and slipping through, praying that I didn't tumble down the stairs.


	13. Frank

December 27nd, 1999   
**_Saturday;afternoon_ **

The basement door clicked shut, and I didn't dare let out the breath I was holding until I heard Gerard's footsteps descend the stairs. When a slight bang was heard, followed by a 'Fuck!', I knew he was far enough from the door that he wouldn't hear me.

I let out a shaky breath, realizing that I had been holding it longer than intended, and gripped the edge of the chair I was sitting in.

I was scared, mostly because what had just happened in the kitchen in the last five minutes was almost exactly the dream I had last night.

Almost.

They both started out with Gerard in the kitchen -- _in his underwear_ to be exact-- drying the dishes like it's what he does everyday.

But the ending was just a little different.

Instead of it ending with Gerard leaving the room, and me sitting here twiddling my thumbs aimlessly, it ended with those God-forsaken boxers he was wearing thrown halfway across the kitchen and me groaning so loud that I had woken myself up in the process. I think I had been more upset to the fact that the dream had ended before my fantasy was finished then realizing that I had a huge problem that wasn't going away anytime soon. Laying there for nearly half of an hour, trying so hard to get it to just GO. AWAY on its own. And when it didn't, I had to take matters into my own hands -- literally -- and for about the seventh time in the past two weeks, spent the rest of my night down at the washing machine.

But that dream had felt so real it was unbelievable. Well, as real as I could imagine at least. It's not like I had done anything like what I have been dreaming about the last few days with anyone. I suppose I think that's the reason why it's been happening almost _every night_.

I'm turning into a horny teenage kid.

\--finally.

And for my best friend's older brother at that.

I shook my head as I rested my head onto the table in front of me. The more I continued to sit here and think about that oh-so-amazing dream and just the way I had envisioned Gerard and _oh god_ I really needed to stop or this could end up awkward if someone walked in.

I sat up, breathing as normally as I could, and attempted my best to calm myself down before pushing myself from my seat. Clamping my eyes shut tight, I paced back and forth alongside the table, willing myself to in fact calm down, because right now nothing seemed to be working.

Groaning lightly, I cursed myself for wearing such tight pants today. I lent my elbows on the table, my face pressed into my upturned palms.

Knowing I was completely worked up about thoughts of my best friend's brother in the middle of his kitchen didn't stop me from reaching down, and attempting to relieve myself of some of the pressure in my pants. Though as I went to 'do my business in the middle of the fucking kitchen', a noise from behind the basement door knocked me out of my crazy, suddenly horny stage, and as I heard Gerard ascending the stairs, my 'problem' was gone quicker than you could say **'holy shit'**.

As I heard the handle of the door jiggle, and the door begin to open, I ran and slid across the linoleum floor on my sock covered feet, and reached for the plate of cookies that Mrs. Way had set out earlier. I ripped off the cling wrap and tossed it in the trash next to the counter just as I heard Gerard close the door behind him.

I turned to face him, cookies in hand, hoping to make it look like I hadn't been sitting in the kitchen the entire time he was downstairs, and as I did so, I watched as a few tumbled right off the plate and onto the ground. Gerard literally jumped as the sound, spinning to face me.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," he breathed, shaking his head lightly. I made quick eye contact before breaking it, because I'm pretty sure I was just envisioning him naked not three minutes ago.

He was completely clothed now, which made me a bit sad inside.

The bright green and red sprinkles that had decorated the Christmas tree cookies were scattered all over the ground, and I felt really stupid just standing there staring down at them. So I set the plate back down on the counter, sunk to my knees and began sweep up all the little sprinkles into my hand, because I knew if I didn't, they'd be stuck to my socks and I didn't feel like having multicolor socks.

"Frank, just leave it. I got it."

I looked up as Gerard set down a few wrapped objects down on the table, and made his way to the small closet near the basement door. He extracted a bright yellow broom and a small dust pan and made his way towards the mess. He held the objects up and smiled. "These might make this easier."

I nodded quickly, and stood up as he began to sweep. What was already collected in my hand was thrown into the trash, along with what Gerard picked up from the floor. He smiled at me as he dumped the pan into the trash, and I shivered.

I seriously felt like I was in one of those girly movies or something.

"Could you guys hurry up?" Mikey's voice entered the room, and I turned to look at his flustered face. "Mom's got a big one she hid from me on Christmas! She won't let me open it until you two get in here, so move it."

"Say please, Michael," Gerard tutted, crossing the room to return the broom to the closet, a smirk falling across his lips, and I had to look away, putting my attention back on the plate of cookies.

"Please," Mikey emphasized, rolling his eyes as he turned from the doorway. "..asshole."

Gerard snorted from inside the closet, emerging just in time to hear Mrs. Way say "Michael! Language."

++

"Thanks Mom."

I buried my face into my sweatshirt -- alright not my sweatshirt, but that's not the point -- as I watched Mikey attempt to smile as he pulled pair after pair of tighty-whities out of the huge gift that his Mom had hid from him. He had looked so excited as he ripped the bright red paper off the box -- cleaning it up and shoving it into a garbage bag Gerard had just brought out almost instantly knowing I would spaz out if he didn't -- but as he peered into the box, it changed very quickly.

Mikey continued to keep that 'I'm-not-really-happy-but-is-pretending-to-be' face as he stared down at the contents of the box, but soon his mom's laughter made him break contact.

"Well don't look too enthused or anything," she shook her head, leaning back in the loveseat, reaching her arm behind it and extracting two identically wrapped gifts. "The box was a joke from your father dear." Mr. Way was stuck in Chicago during Christmas due to snow delay, but managed to send a few joke gifts; underwear for Mikey, and socks for Gerard.

Mikey rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless, as he reached forward from his spot on the floor, and snatching up the outstretched gift.

"Why do you always have to spoil him Mom?" Gerard mumbled as he stretched his legs out onto the coffee table in front of him, the large art set with practically anything you'd ever need sat next to his feet. I sat on the opposite side of the couch -- which really felt a whole lot smaller right about now -- still engulfed in his sweatshirt. I'm actually a bit upset that he hasn't asked for it back, just because it doesn't have that cigarette, apple shampoo, **Gerard** smell anymore. Maybe if he took it back for a day or something, but then I'd want it back.

Cause I really like that smell.

I almost fell off the couch as the other small box, identical to the one Mikey was ripping apart fell into my lap. I looked up at Mrs. Way, eyes a bit wide in protest to the gift, because she really didn't need to, but she just shook her head and smiled. I returned it.

Slowly, I ripped the paper away and opened to box, grinning as I pulled out another winter hat -- one with the strings and obnoxious poofy ball on top -- and quickly pulled it on my head.

"Oh aren't you two cute!" Mrs. Way cooed, sighing as she smiled between Mikey and I. That's when I noticed we had the same hat on top of our heads. Mikey rolled his eyes, but laughed and smiled as he pulled at the strings.

"Too adorable," Gerard laughed, shaking his head. Looking over at him, I noticed he had those couple of gifts he had carried upstairs sitting on his lap.

After a many, many pictures taken by Mrs. Way of Mikey and I in our hats was when Gerard grabbed at the gifts, and I was surprised when he handed one to me.

"Merry Christmas," he smiled, handing me the newspaper wrapped gift, shrugging as I looked down at it surprised. "It's all I had to wrap it in. And it's nothing really -- well, I mean, it's something, but it's not a big deal or anything," he rambled, ending his sentence with another shrug and smile.

I felt my face heat up, but I don't think, or at least didn't hope he saw, as I dropped my eyes to the badly wrapped gift in my hands. It's the thought that counts, right?

Very curious to what was inside the small, thin present, I ripped away at the paper, trying to hide my grin at the _to:frankie_ written in sharpie on the front, and my eyes grew as I saw what it was.

When Mikey said that Gerard could draw, I never thought he was this good. This actually--looked like me. I could feel my eyes almost bugging out of my head and I looked at all the details of not only me, but of Princess.

I smiled, and was pretty much amazed at how much it looked like her since he's only seen her once. He even put in her little dog bone collar with her name on it.

My smile changed to a grin as I saw that I was wearing _his_ sweatshirt in the picture. It wasn't in color, but the stitching in the arms was the same, and I had honestly never seen another sweatshirt that looked like it.

I held in the urge to launch myself at him, thanking him repeatedly because ohgod this was amazing. Also because Mikey beat me to it.

"Gee!" Mikey began laughing almost hysterically as he threw himself in between us on the couch. I peeked over his shoulder at the drawing, and a laugh escaped my lips also. Unlike my picture, his wasn't as life like, but more of a caricature of him with a light-saber.

"You're a nerd, so I thought I'd give you a light-saber to make you look a bit cooler," Gerard laughed, ruffling Mikey's hair as he passed the picture to his mom's outstretched hand.

"Ha ha," Mikey mimicked, pushing away Gerard's hand and himself up from the couch, heading for the wrapped gifts across the room we had brought in earlier.

Gerard looked over at me and Mrs. Way beckoned for the picture in my hand, and I smiled at him, holding eye contact as long as I could, willing myself to just say 'thank you' because fuck, he really didn't have to do that.

I licked my lips, my mouth opening because the words are **right there** but Mikey dropping the larger of the two boxes in Gerard's lap broke our eye contact.

I closed my eyes, and blew the air out of my nose. I was so damn close.

"Open it, open it, open it!" Mikey chanted, squatting down next to the couch, resting his chin on the arm, eyes wide. At the store, he couldn't for the life of him figure out what to get his brother, but after a few suggestions, and many, many stores, we finally found 'the best present ever!' as Mikey said.

Gerard huffed, and sat up straighter, dropping his legs from the table. Mrs. Way set the pictures down on the table, getting interested in the box sitting on Gerard's lap, because usually she's the one that buys the gift from Mikey to his brother, but this year she didn't have to.

He pulled the paper away from the box quickly, practically squealing when he could read what the box said. "You didn't?!"

Mikey had sat up straighter, a grin across his face as he raised the second box from behind the arm of the couch. Gerard lunged for it, though was much more careful knowing what was inside it.

"I've wanted a hamster for like, five years!" Gerard laughed, crumpling up the used paper and tossing it into the bag across the room, staring down at the small box that had small breathing holes in the sides. That small box sat on top of the cage that his hamster would be living in.

He slowly opened the small box, and reached his hand into it, extracting the small squeaking hamster that I had picked out at the pet store. He had a stripe on the top of his small head, and I thought he was the cutest out of all of them.

“Frank picked it out,” Mikey spoke, running his pointer finger on top of the hamsters head.

Gerard was grinning the biggest I've ever seen, and when he reached across the couch with his free hand and tugged me against him so hard that I practically fell into his lap, and I could faintly smell that apple shampoo again, my smile probably matched his.


	14. Gerard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. I MET FRANK IERO LAST WEEK AND I HUGGED HIM AND I'M STILL SPEECHLESS.  
> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

December 31st, 1999  
 **_Wednesday;night_ **

"I don't really know, I hadn't thought about it yet."

Mikey huffed, and shook his head. I threw a cheesy grin in his direction, lifting the hamster in my hands up to my face, nuzzling it into my cheek as the little creature squeaked in my ear. "What?"

He rolled his eyes, motioning to the hamster. "Without a name, your hamster has no character!" He lowered his accusing finger, before turning his head slightly. "Do you even know if it's a he or a she?"

I stopped petting the hamster's soft fur, the small patch of white on the top of it's head the softest, before cradling it in my hand belly up. "I don't know, I can't tell."

Mikey crinkled his nose and I laughed, pushing the animal towards him. "You tell me, Mikes."

"Ick, you sick fucker!" Mikey laughed, pushing himself off the couch, almost tripping over himself as he knocked into the hamster ball on the ground. I smiled up at him as he disappeared into the kitchen, throwing my legs up into his vacated spot, letting the small ball of fur to wander around my stomach.

New Years Eve.

It was currently 9:48 at night, and I was spending it sitting around my house babysitting my little cousin while my Mom went out with her sister and friends. She had given me the option to stay home and make Mikey watch seven-year-old Hannah, or go out like she was, with my own friends.

It did sound tempting; Ray was having a party over at his house with people I hadn't seen since before I left for college, but decided against it last minute.

I knew Mikey was capable of watching Hannah; she wasn't hard to take care of at all. Like any other kid, all they wanted was something to do; even Mikey could do that.

But when Mikey said that Frank was going to be over too, I decided that I'd rather be here then at some party.

I smiled slightly as Hannah bounded into the living room, Frank following slowly behind her. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes on the ground.

Hannah is a really good kid, but she can get a bit demanding at times. Usually I was the one to entertain her when she was over, and I had been at the beginning of the night until Frank showed up a few hours ago. He was someone new, and because she's never seen him at my house, she figured she would be the kind host and show him around. He looked reluctant as she snatched his hand and pulled him around the house, pointing out all of the rooms and who slept where, all except my room, because she knew that she wasn't allowed down there.

Last time that happened, she found my paint, and to this day I still find little spots where she had flung all the different colors.

"Gerard," Hannah spoke, squeezing herself in between the table in front of the couch, and the couch itself, blocking me from watching Times Square on the TV, putting her small face right up to mine. Her long brown hair fell into my face, so I blew air out of my mouth, making it fly in all directions and getting a laugh from her.

"What's happening?" I asked, wrapping my free arm around her small body, pulling her down to sit on the small space left on the couch. She maneuvered her body so she could turn around but still stay seated, and pointed to the hamster that was trying to bury itself into my shirt. "Switch with me."

I craned my neck a bit to look around her head at the TV, the volume low enough that I could barely hear it. "Switch what, babe?"

"The hamster. I get the hamster, and you can have Frank," she spoke, turning her head to smile at Frank, before looking back at me. My eyes moved to Frank also, his eyes a bit wide now that he heard his name being said. I raised my eyebrows, smiling slightly before nodding. "Alright, but you have to be gentle with the hamster."

Hannah rolled her big brown eyes, before scrambling for the animal on my chest. "I know, Gerard." She paused, turning to look at Frank once more, before leaning down, her mouth right next to my ear. "I think Frank is sick," she spoke, rather then whispered, but when she moved to look at him once more, he looked down at the ground like he couldn't hear her. I watched him pull his lip ring into his mouth as Hannah leaned down once more. "He hasn't said anything all night, so maybe he doesn't feel good. You should make him feel better, Gerard."

Frank's head shot up at the last line, and by that time I had a smile plastered on my face. His cheeks flushed bright red, almost matching the sweatshirt he's worn everyday for the last week or two, and let a small smile grace his own lips before going back to pulling at the piece of metal in his lip and avoiding my eyes.

Hannah pulled away from my ear, turning to make sure Frank wasn't listening, before nodding, "Deal?"

I laughed lightly, nodding my own head.

"Deal."

++

Another thing about little kids; they never keep their deals.

It was now an hour away from the New Year, and I had no hamster, and no Frank.

Mikey had broken out the caffeine about a half hour ago, and in the span of a Mountain Dew and three small bags of M&M's, Hannah had taken the hamster in it's little exercise ball, as well as Frank into Mikey's room, and had locked me out.

"You can't come in without the password, Gerard!" Hannah giggled from the other side of the wooden door, Mikey's voice following with a "Yeah!"

"Grow up, Mikey!" I slammed my palm on the door, wanting to scare Hannah a bit just to make her realize that I didn't find this as funny as she did. But as her joyous laughter filled the bedroom once again, I realized that she didn't take the threat the right way. She just pounded back.

"What happened to our deal, Hannah?" I spoke, leaning against the door, my forehead resting against where the door-frame meets the door. My hand stayed on the doorknob, twisting every few seconds to see if it had been unlocked.

I heard her huff from the other side of the door, before shuffling was heard. I moved away from the door when I heard the knob jiggle, and seconds later it opened. The three of them made their way out of the room, Hannah leading with the hamster in it's ball clutched in her hands. Completely blowing off the question I asked her seconds ago, she grinned, pushing the ball into my hands, and spoke. "Mikey's gonna make us popcorn! And then we're gonna watch TV and sleep in the living room instead of his room!" She lunged forward to connect herself to my waist, avoiding the hamster that I held in my arms. "Are you gonna come Gerard? To our sleepover?"

I raised an eyebrow, looking over at Mikey who stood in the doorway, laughing silently, head shaking back and forth. Frank also had a small smile on his face, hands still tucked in his jeans, as he looked down at the small child attached to my hip.

"I might just do that in a bit, how does that sound?" I ruffled her hair, and pulled her arms off of me, pushing her towards Mikey. "Go set up the living room and get ready for bed, alright?"

She was off down the hallway, Mikey getting pulled behind her before I could even finish my sentence.

"She's a bit over the top, huh?" I laughed, turning my head towards Frank, earning a smile and a small nod. "Quick, if we get downstairs before she sees us, Mikey'll have to suffer with her 'till she falls asleep."

Taking my chance, I reached over and grabbed Frank's hand with my free one, and pulled him down the hall. Quietly making it to the kitchen without being seen by the two lugging the pull-out bed from the couch, we made our way downstairs. I let go of his hand as we descended the stairs, thankful that there wasn't the usual stuff littering them.

Yes I, Gerard Arthur Way cleaned my room. Fascinating, isn't it?

I switched on the lights at the bottom of the stairs, quietly admiring my handy work as I moved to my desk across the room. I set the hamster's ball down next to the cage, turning my head to see Frank standing awkwardly by the bottom of the stairs, eyes flying all around the room. One hand was wrapped around his middle, as the other pulled at his lip ring, and I couldn't help but grin. How fucking adorable was this kid?

"You can sit down if you want," I said, motioning to my bed, clean sheets and all and the chair next to me at the desk. "Wherever you want. I thought maybe we could actually do those art lesson things we've been talking about?"

Removing the top of the ball, I reached in and pulled out the hamster, thankful that Hannah didn't kill it or anything, pulling the top off of the cage and setting it--He? She?-- inside.

Turning quickly, finding Frank standing next to my bed, looking at the drawings I had pinned by my headboard. "Frank? Is my hamster a boy or a girl?"

He turned to look at me, that small smile he's had on a lot tonight still on his face. He opened his mouth, shutting it after a few seconds. But then he pulled a hand out from his jeans pocket, where they seemed to be almost all night, and held up his hand to make it look like he was writing.

"Oh! Yeah--hold on a second," I stumbled over my words, moving to open my desk drawers to find a pencil. Grabbing my sketch book off of the top of the desk, I moved over to him, sitting down on the bed, motioning him to do the same, before opening to a clean page.

He sat down almost in slow motion, his eyes darting around once again, and I could tell he was nervous. My cleaning had apparently been up to par, his possible presence here in my room the only reason I cleaned it in the first place.

How sweet am I?

I handed him the pencil, which he took shyly along with the notebook.

When he gave it back, I almost squealed.

_boy_

I shot up from the bed, moving to the cage sitting on my desk, and leaned down to eye level with the hamster that was drinking out of the little water bottle connected to the side of the cage. "My little boy!"

Frank laughed out loud, his head was shaking back and forth as I turned back to him. "Don't laugh at me! I'm affectionate towards those that I like, alright!"

That only made him laugh more, though I did find a tinge of red gracing his cheeks once again.

A loud bang came from the top of the stairs, and soon a beam of light came into the room caused by the kitchen, and Mikey stomped down the stairs.

"You are not going to leave me up there with her when she's had this much sugar--why the fuck is this room so clean?" Mikey rambled, almost out of breath when he got to the foot of the stairs, his glasses falling down his nose, but he quickly pushed them back up.

I grinned and jutted my thumb in the direction of the cage on my desk as I moved to sit back down next to Frank, who had the pencil pressed to the paper, tracing over and over the one word that he had written a few seconds ago. "It's a boy, Mikey!"

Mikey twirled his pointer finger around in the air, rolling his eyes. "Yippee. Now come back upstairs?"

"You're the one who fed her all of the sugar baby brother, you get to deal with her," I smiled, pointing behind him to the stairs.

Mikey groaned lightly, head falling to the side, eyes closing. "Whatever. You're obnoxious. Frank, come on; lets go entertain her until she passes out or something."

Frank looked up from the paper, eyes a bit wide, shaking his head. I probably looked as surprised as Mikey did at Frank's answer. I figured he would go with him, but I suppose he's had enough of Hannah for one day.

"You--uhh, want to stay down here then?" Mikey stuttered, pointing around the room. Frank nodded, and moved his eyes back down to the page.

"Mikey! I can't reach the microwave, and I really want some popcorn!" Hannah appeared at the top of the stairs, and package of unopened popcorn in her small hand.

I pushed myself up from the bed, gripping Mikey's shoulders and turning him around to push him up the stairs. "Have fun."

"Gerard--"

"He's fine, Mikey," I assured him.

"No, no I think he will be, too. I'm still curious as to why your room isn't a fucking mess," he laughed, almost tripping up the stairs as I followed him up them, hand on his back.

"Can't a guy clean? Jeez, what's up with that?" I laughed, almost nervously, because Mikey would be one to put two and two together and figure out why I did it.

"Not you, Gee. I know you too well," he smiled, and I rolled my eyes as I pulled the door at the top of the stairs closed.

I sighed quietly, shaking my head before bounding back down the stairs.

Frank was still in the same spot, the pencil resting on top of the sketchbook that sat on his lap. "So," I spoke, sitting down sideways next to him, leg tucked underneath myself. "Do you have anything you really want to learn to draw?"

Frank didn't move his head, or shrug his shoulders. He simply shifted the sketchbook into my lap and folded his shaking hands in his lap, his teeth clicking against his lip ring.

My eyes dropped to the paper in my lap, and I don't think I've ever smiled so big.

_i really wish i could talk to you_

"Frankie--"

I was interrupted by stomping from the floor above me, and the volume of the TV in the living room, that was turned up all the way to high, blaring the sounds of fireworks and people cheering. I let my eyes fall to my bedside table that held my alarm clock.

**12:00**

I smiled as Frank noticed the time also, his face matching his--my--sweatshirt once again that night. I cleared my throat quickly, afraid if I didn't do this RIGHT NOW, I would chicken out.

I leaned forward and let my lips brush against Frank's burning cheek. I let out an airy laugh, moving so my lips were resting next to his ear, forehead resting against his head.

"Happy New Year, Frankie."


	15. Frank

January 4th, 2000   
_**Sunday;afternoon** _

"This show is so horrible Frank, seriously."

My mouth dropped open in mock horror, eyebrows knitted together, though my eyes never left the screen. "Take that back."

I heard Mikey groan, shifting in his seat next to me. "Gerard is obsessed this this show, too. I don't get what the big deal about it is."

I rolled my eyes, laughing out loud as SpongeBob and Squidward marched though the outskirts of the city, Krusty Krab pizza in hand. "Just fucking watch it Mikey, and you'll know why it's the best."

SpongeBob started singing on the TV, skipping along and annoying Squidward to no end. I laughed once again, sliding further into the couch, nodding my head to the song. "The Krusty Krab pizza, is the pizza, for you and me!"

The front door of the Way household stole my voice, and Gerard barged into the living room, bright grin gracing his face. "I found them! In the garage, they're pieces of shit, but they'll work!" He was hopping up and down where he was standing, hands balled into fists at his side.

Mikey shot up from the couch, sighing loudly. "Thank God. I couldn't stand one more second of this stupid show."

Gerard's arm shot out and connected with Mikey's chest; the sound echoing through the room. "Fuck off, this show is amazing!"

Mikey shoved passed Gerard, making sure to push him harder then necessary as he rubbed at his sore chest. "You and Frank can drool over it then."

Gerard shook his head, grin back in place. He pointed in my direction. "Some other time!" He went to the TV, switching it off before marching off to the door. "Let’s move it!"

++

"These do not look safe Gee," Mikey spoke warily, kicking at the broken plastic sleds that sat at his feet.

Gerard had driven us to the middle school in town; the huge hill in the back of the school usually a hit for sledding.

Today? Not at all.

It had warmed up a few days before, but got cold again, and the entire hill was practically ice. The sun was out, but wasn't helping much. The top of the hill was slush and it soaked into my shoes; cold and wet. I forgot a coat in the rush of getting to the hill and the cold soaked right through my favorite red sweatshirt. I pulled up my hood, and hugged my middle as I turned back to the brothers.

Gerard rolled his eyes, lifting up one of the black plastic sleds, carefully avoiding the sharp edges at the front. "You're lame Mikey, it's going to be fine. And fun!" He grinned big, eyes closing as he did so. "We haven't done this since we were kids."

I watched him pull on the sunglasses he had perched on top of his head; the same ones I saw him wearing the first day I met him. He set the piece of plastic down at the edge of the hill and sat down in it. He pulled his coat closer, the buttons on the thing still broken, and turned to salute us.

And he was gone, yelling like a four-year-old as he flew down the slick hill.

When he finally stopped at the bottom, he hopped up and gave us the thumbs up, screaming "Get your asses in those sleds!"

I heard Mikey sigh from beside me, but he was smiling. "He's really twenty-one, not six."

I laughed and waved as Mikey grabbed a hold of his own sled, and slid down after his brother. I snorted as Mikey's hat flew off half way down the hill, and then he flipped to the side as he had turned to try to catch it. I had to sit down because I thought I might fall down the hill from laughing so hard.

I lounged in the last sled and waited for the two to make it back up the hill, pointing and laughing as they struggled to find their footing on the way up.

"That fucking sucked!" Mikey whined as he collapsed into his sled next to me, gripping his hat in one hand, wiping his other on his pants.

Gerard sounded out of breath when he spoke, breathing heavily and leaning one arm against his knee to catch his breath. "That was fun, what are you talking about!?"

My shoulders shook as I pushed Mikey's head to the side. My sled moved slightly with the motion, closer to the hill, and Gerard took the initiative to pull me towards him. "Your turn."

I shook my head violently, trying to use my feet to stop him from bringing me closer to the hill, but to no avail.

"Suck it up Frank! I had to go, so now you have to go, too!" Mikey teased from behind me, and I snatched up a bit of slushy snow to toss over my shoulder, hoping to hit him. His snort told me that I missed.

"See you at the bottom," Gerard laughed from behind me, and with that he gave my sled a push.

The wind burned my face and my knuckles went numb from gripping the side of the sled. I grinned as I felt myself come to a stop, spinning sideways. I shook my hands, wringing them together to try and get the feeling back into them, but Gerard's voice made me look up.

That broken sled was coming straight in my direction, and even with Gerard's heels digging into the ground, it wasn't slowing him down whatsoever.

My eyes widened as I tried to scramble out of the way, but the icy ground wasn't letting me move an inch. I squeezed my eyes shut, and the last thing I heard was Gerard's scream and the crunching sound of plastic.

++

My head was pounding the second I realized I was awake. The right side of my body felt like it was on fire, and whoever I was currently laying on wasn't helping it feel any better.

I heard Mikey's voice, shrill and broken up. "No--I can't! I can't fucking carry him! I'll--I'll drop him or something!” followed by what sounded like a car door being shut, and then another opening. Cold wind filtered in from behind me causing me to shiver, teeth chattering as my wet clothing clung to my body.

"Mikey! Quit being a god damned pansy and help me!" Gerard voiced; I could literally feel the rumble of his voice vibrating within his chest, considering my face was pressed up against his freezing cold jacket. His volume was hushed, as though I was still out cold.

I felt him slip his arm under my knees, the other going around my upper back, fingers gripping my damp sleeve. I was content in the position; pressure off of my side, but as I felt him turn his body towards the open door, the hand that was around my back slipped down to wrap around my middle; his hand gripping out of instinct to keep me from slipping off of his lap. That small touch to my right side sent a huge shock throughout the rest of my body, and I tensed up dramatically.

My eyes shot open as they began to water, my head snapping backwards as I whimpered in pain.

"Jesus--Frank? Frankie--what's wrong?" Gerard's quiet tone disappeared, and I really wished the two brothers would stop talking so loud when my head felt like it was going to explode. I tried to keep my face as calm as I could; tried to make it look like I wasn't in as much pain as I actually was.

My face must have been pretty believable, because he gave me the faintest of smiles before gripping my side once again.

I let out a yelp, my hand that wasn't tucked between Gerard and myself flew to his to tear it away from my body.

His eyes were wide and his mouth hung slightly open; startled and surprised. "Oh Jesus--Frank I'm so sorry! I'm sorry--Mikey! Mikey help him or s-something!"

The poor guy had to clue what to do.

"Frank?"

I took a deep breath before turning my head ever-so-slightly from my sideways position on Gerard's lap, and opened my eyes to look up at Mikey's timid face. Without Gerard's hand pressing into my side, I was content. But as I felt Mikey grab both of my hands, tearing away the one that was practically crushing Gerard's, gripping tightly; the content feeling was gone.

I winced and pushed my face into Gerard's freezing jacket once again as I felt him shift so my legs dangled out the car door. Gerard shifted forward further so my feet touched the ground, and by then I really wanted to scream at him to stop moving, because I didn't know how much more of this I could take.

Mikey gripped my hands tighter when I let out a questionably high-pitched groan, favoring leaning to my left, while Gerard's arm moved from my lower back to around my shoulders. My eyes were squeezed shut as I felt him rest his forehead on the side of my head that wasn't killing me, just like he did on New Years Eve. I leaned into his touch, wanting him to move back into the car, and just let me sit still.

"I'm so sorry Frankie," Gerard mumbled in my ear. "So fucking sorry."

Mikey's voice had Gerard moving his face away; Gerard's arm pushing my body forward slightly. His body had been keeping mine as warm as it could, which wasn't much; but when he shifted so I was only sitting on his leg, his body behind mine with both hands on my lower back, I began to shake from the new temperature.

Where did my sweatshirt go?

"Frank? Okay--I'm just going to pull you out fast, alright?" He smiled quickly, re-gripping my hands as he held the door open with his hip. "It's probably going to hurt--and I'm sorry about that, but I think it's the least painful way to get you out." He paused again, face screwed up in worry. "Don't be mad if I hurt you, okay?"

I bit my lip and closed my eyes. My chin was quivering and my teeth were clacking together, but I couldn't tell if it was because of the cold, or because I suddenly felt like bawling like a baby. I nodded quickly, my teeth clamping down that much more; just enough to keep me from screaming bloody murder.

Mikey's palms were sweaty as he re-gripped my body once more, mumbling a "Three, two, one" and pulled as Gerard pushed from behind.

The spot right between my ribs and hip felt like it was on fire as I crashed into Mikey's skinny body. Biting my lip before had no affect now as I screamed out in pain, pushing my face into his neck. My left arm on the good side of my body looped up and around the back of his neck, holding me upright on wobbly legs. His own arm was wrapped around my left side, pulling me away from the car and further up his driveway.

Even with my eyes squeezed shut, I could feel my head spinning; and Mikey shouting in my ear wasn't helping at all. "Fuck--Frank? I'm sorry! Are you alright? Shit--" My legs fell out from underneath me as I felt my stomach lurch; my knees connecting with the ground before Mikey could catch me. His question was answered when I spilled the contents of my stomach all over his driveway.

I heard his sharp intake of breath, even over all the noise I was making, and through half-closed eyelids, could see him move away and back to the car. Mikey was one of those people that couldn't stand being around people that were sick; he would instantly feel sick himself. I found that out last year when I got sick in biology. He left me all alone with the nurse until my Mom came and got me.

My side continued to burn as I heaved once again. I guessed the pain was making me throw up, rather then the cold pizza Mikey and I ate this morning. It could have been a good mixture of both, though.

"Mikey, run to the store. Get crackers and Ginger ale or something," Gerard spoke as I felt his hand rest on my back once again. I heard Mikey whine, but Gerard's "Go!" had him slamming the door behind him and backing out of the driveway.

My throat stung, but my stomach was finally deciding to stay put. My mouth tasted horrible and for how disgusting it sounded, I could feel access bile and spit drip from my lips. I groaned, lifting my hands up from the ground; frozen and covered in snow. I let them rest on my thighs, slapping them lightly to try and get the feeling back.

"Frank? You're not going to throw up again, are you?"

I had begun breathing through my mouth rather then my nose and had closed my eyes; the sight and smell of my former breakfast not all that appealing. I shook my head 'no' and leaned my body back to rest on my haunches; my body shaking from the cold once again. The angle helped my side a bit, but favored leaning to my left against Gerard.

"Here," Gerard spoke, dropping a piece of damp fabric into my lap, using part of it to wipe my mouth. My eyes slid open to find the sweatshirt I had been wearing; ripped and battered against my legs. I looked up at him next to me, my eyes questioning, but he just smiled sadly. "Let's go inside, Frankie. I'll let you know what happened."

He looped his arm under my arms, mumbling a "Sorry" when I winced as he pulled me up. His other arm went back under my knees, lifting me into his arms. I cradled the torn sweatshirt, careful to avoid where I had wiped my mouth as we made it in to the house and toward the bathroom.

The heat of the house warmed my frozen skin, and I was relieved that Mrs. Way wasn't home; she would get worked up, and call my Mom. I really didn't want that.

Gerard grunted slightly as he lifted me up onto the counter, flicking the light on next to the sink.

"Shit, it looks worse here," he said, raising his hand to the right side of my head so he could move my damp hair out of the way. I flinched when he touched a sensitive spot, and he pulled back quickly.

"Sorry, Frankie. You were bleeding pretty badly on the way home. I used that to keep it from bleeding everywhere," he motioned to the sweatshirt in my lap. He looked up to see my eyes wide and quickly shook his head. "It's not bleeding now! No--it's fine now. I just need to clean it. Your side too. It wasn't bleeding as bad though."

I turned my upper half as much as possible, lifting my right arm just a bit to see a dark red splotch on my grey shirt. I whimpered as I reached for the bottom of my shirt, but having no luck getting it up with my right arm blocking the way.

"Hold on," Gerard rushed, pushing my hand away and going for the bathroom door. He stopped in the doorway, turning around and moving back over to me. "Are you fine here? You're not going to like, fall or anything?" His eyes darted all over my face, and I shook my head. He nodded and ran out of the room.

I had to smile slightly as I leaned back against the mirror on the wall behind me.

He cares.

Slamming drawers came from the room across the hall; from Mikey's room. I went to lean forward to see what Gerard was doing, but he was back in the room quicker then I could sit up straight. He was carrying a pair of Mikey's boxers and a plain black shirt. He held up the boxers and laughed. "I think these are clean. They were in his drawer, but you never know."

I smiled; too afraid that laughing would hurt my side and watched him fumble through the cabinets under the sink. He pulled out a small plastic box along with a bottle of green liquid. Unscrewing the lid, he poured a bit into it and passed it my way.

"Mouthwash," he said with a smile.

I reached for it greedily, throwing it into my mouth and swooshing it around quickly. It burned, but it sure as hell tasted a lot better then puke.

I spit it into the sink to my left, rinsing the top out before handing it back. I nodded in thanks.

He smiled.

Setting the bottle aside, he opened the plastic container, pulling out another bottle and some cotton balls. I groaned, knowing what it was and how much it was going to sting.

Gerard laughed, squirting a bit of the cleaning fluid onto the cotton ball over the sink, before standing right in front of me. The counter wasn't that big, and my butt barely fit on the thing, so I didn't find it necessary for him to push himself between my legs to reach the side of my head.

I was close enough beforehand.

And he made me scoot forward, away from the mirror and practically right up against him. I stared at my legs that rested right against his hips, and _oh my god_ , why is he so close?

"Turn your head," he mumbled, shifting my hair away from the cut on the side of my head when I did so. His breathing was calm and even, unlike mine. "Calm down," he chuckled, his breath warming my still frozen skin. "It won't hurt that bad."

He pressed the cotton ball to my wound, using his other hand to keep my chin up and to the side. I jerked away from the sting, my own hands reaching out and gripping the front of his shirt. I whined when he held my head in place; his breathing low and quiet as he spoke quietly. "I'm sorry, Frankie."

My feet started a continued beat against the cabinet doors, trying to distract myself as Gerard wiped more disinfectant to the side of my head.

"There," he said, setting aside another cotton ball, reaching for the plastic box once more, but not leaving his place between my legs.

_Oh my..._

He ripped open a band aid, carefully pressing it to the cut, trying to avoid as much hair as possible.

"Alright, now your side," he spoke, resting his hands on either side of my legs on the counter top. I leaned back slightly; his face now closer to my own. Gerard smiled before leaning back again and moving his hands to the bottom of my shirt. He lifted the left side, allowing me to slip my arm through, before pulling it over my head. Moving carefully to my right side, he slipped the shirt off of my body and let it drop to the floor. I watched his eyes linger on my side, frowning slightly before reaching for the disinfectant once again.

I took the chance to look down at my side, grimacing as the bright red line ran horizontal, surrounded by a huge black and blue bruise. Gerard let a breath out through his nose, setting the supplies down next to my leg.

"Frankie, you know I'm sorry right?" He paused, waiting for me to nod and turn my head towards him before continuing. "The sled hit you in the side before I could stop it, I swear. It ended up ripping your sweatshirt and cutting you pretty bad." He winced and looked down at the damage, giving me just the right amount of time to smile at the comment of the bright red sweatshirt as being mine. He looked back up at me, smiling slightly again. "Your head snapped down and hit the ground, which is why your head was bleeding so bad. I'm never sledding on fucking ice again."

I let out a small laugh, leaning to the left when it began to burn.

"I'm sorry I made you go down the hill."

I shook my head, waving my hand as to say _"Stop"_. He smiled again, pushing my hand down and looking at me sternly. "Seriously, I am. Really sorry Frankie--"

I groaned, but still smiled as I nodded as if saying _"I know, you've said it a million times already."_

He leaned forward quickly, resting his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. My breath caught in my throat as he did this, much like it did on New Years right before he had kissed me. Gerard opened his mouth, letting "So sorry" fall from his lips before I held my breath and moved forward, pushing my lips to the spot right beside his mouth.

I pulled back quickly; my face burning a bright shade of red as I smiled at his wide eyes. I mouthed the words _"I know"_ before he yanked me forward into a hug, laughing. 

I couldn't help but join.


	16. Gerard

January 4th, 2000   
_**Sunday;night** _

I was thankful the driveway was still empty when I pulled my own car into the space, turning the engine off. The headlights dimmed and I stumbled out of the drivers door, food in hand, and now blind due to the lack of lighting that lead up to the front door of the house.

Cursing as my knee slammed into the doorjamb, I clicked on the hallway light before pushing the door shut behind me.

“Mikey?”

I didn't hear a response as I moved down the hall and into the dark kitchen; the only light guiding me was through the crack in the door that lead down to my room.

I moved towards my bedroom door, carefully setting the bag of food I went out to get on the table in the kitchen, eyes trained on the beam of light coming from the basement. I quietly slipped my jacket off my shoulders, tucking it under my arm as I heard Mikey ask how Frank was feeling. I froze when I was a few steps from the door, eyes wide and ears straining to hear just what Frank's voice would sound like.

I had thought about it so many times before. I wondered if his voice would sound like his laugh; higher pitched and giggly, or if it would be deep and completely not what I had first thought.

But as my luck would have it, when I moved forward to get closer to the door; because maybe I just couldn't _hear_ him from the top of the stairs; maybe his voice was quiet rather then deep and giggly, my foot slammed into the door causing that to slam shut also.

My jacket dropped from under my arm as I cussed out loud, leaning down to inspect my throbbing foot. The doorknob found my forehead, and a “What the fuck- ouch” fell from my lips as I hobbled around, all while cradling my head and foot.

“Gerard? That you?”

I tested my weight on my injured foot, and reached for the doorknob with my free hand. “Yeah, just a slight run-in, that's all.”

I glared down the stairs when I heard Mikey snort from somewhere in the basement before snatching the abandoned bag of food and jacket and heading down with them.

“I just got you guys tacos,” I mumbled as I reached the bottom of the stairs with only a slight limp; Mikey meeting me to dig straight into the bag. "Nachos too."

"Awesome," Mikey smiled, before turning to head back over to my bed. "Thanks Gee."

I tossed my jacket onto my desk all while watching the two sprawled out on my bed. Mikey sat with his back against my headboard, legs stretched out with nacho cheese dripping down his chin. He was laughing at something with his mouth wide open, and I scrunched my nose up at the chewed food he was showing off.

"Ick, Mikey. Close your mouth."

He just opened it further.

I rolled my eyes as I made my way over and sat at the end, careful not to sit on Frank's feet.

Frank was laying on the left side, just like he was when I left earlier. The thick blanket that spread across my bed was pulled up to his middle, so only the thin sheet was covering his body up to his neck. He had the edge balled up in his fist, pulled up to his face as he let out a small laugh, but halfway through the small sound, another one followed, though it sounded more painful then happy.

I frowned as I watched his eyes close briefly, before opening again as I reached out and patted his leg. He shot me a small smile before letting out a shaky breath, and nodded when Mikey asked if he wanted more ice for his side.

Mikey crumpled up his taco wrapper and set that and the bag of food on the ground next to the bed. He helped Frank pull the sheet down before taking the melted plastic bag of ice and wash cloth and heading upstairs.

I waited until I heard him reach the top of the stairs before moving up my bed and rested my head on the pillows next to Frank. His eyes were closed once again; the sheet he had in his hand had been pulled down, and he now had nothing to hold onto.

I shifted slightly; just enough to move the bed a bit, and to get Frank to look at me. I smiled when his eyes slid open, and he returned it slightly as he let out a shaky breath. His hand continued to grip at air, and I sighed when he let his eyes shut again.

"Frankie," I murmured, reaching out and taking his fidgeting hand in my own; my fingers finding their way in between his own. His fingers were ice cold around mine, and I squeezed his hand when he smiled at me; a real smile. "You alright?"

He nodded quickly, eyes dropping to our hands resting against the red and black checkered sheets underneath us. I couldn't help but full out grin when I watched his face turn bright red when I ran my thumb along his own. "You sure?"

He smiled again, but when he lifted his eyes again he let his mouth fall slightly. My forehead creased as I looked down at his with questioning eyes. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he always does when he really wants to say something, and just can't.

"What's wrong? Is it your side?" I asked, as I propped myself up on my elbow, while my other hand stayed connected to Frank's. "It's the bruising probably, which was all my fault. Completely my fault Frankie, I tried to stop myself but my foot might have hit you way harder then it should have and--"

Frank slowly slid his fingers out of mine, cutting off my rambling, and moved them up to my face. He let the tips on his fingers trace my cheek, his breathing becoming a bit frantic as his eyes staying fixed on me. I knew it was hard for him to be close to anyone he wasn't comfortable talking to, and I've already seen him get so worked up that he's had a panic attack. I defiantly didn't want that to happen again.

I reached up and took his hand back in my own, cradling it against my chest. "Frank, I--" I paused before thinking of how I wanted to say it. Frank's eyes nervously flicked between my face and our hands. I lifted my free hand from resting on the bed to his face, resting it against his cheek and pulling his attention away from our hands. "I don't want you to get out of your comfort zone too much, okay?"

His eyes moved down to our hands again and he detached his to move it back up to my own face, mimicking my hand resting against his cheek. I couldn't hold back the grin that spread across my face as he let his thumb sweep across my cheekbone, occasionally brushing my eyelashes.

Frank's mouth raised in a smile of his own, before he moved his hand up to my forehead to brush away the hair that hung down to my eyes, smile faltering and hand quickly retracting when I winced at the pressure.

I laughed, lifting my hand to push the rest of the hair Frank didn't push away. "Is there a bruise?"

Frank shook his head as he cautiously lifted his hand once more to run his fingers carefully across my injury. He stopped when I shifted slightly, and I was afraid that I might have made him more uncomfortable by resting my hand on his hip just below the bruise on his side, but when his fingers started moving again, he smiled.

And I fucking grinned.

"It’s just a little accident I had with the door earlier," I rolled my eyes, and he let out a small laugh; his breath still smelling of mouthwash falling across my face. He nodded, as his hand slipped back down to rest on my cheek before he stopped, tugging his lip ring into his mouth and clicking it against his teeth.

I went to open my mouth to ask him, for the thousandth time today, if he was okay, but he cut me off by moving his hand down further to rest it against the side of my neck. He released his lip before running his tongue across it, before letting out a shaky breath and moving to lean forward.

His lips gently pressed against my forehead, lingering for a few seconds, before pulling back.

I forgot to breathe for a total of twelve seconds before realizing I really needed air to live, and after silently heaving as to not startle Frank, I moved the hand that lay on his hip to rest on his hand that was pressed against my neck.

He moved his eyes up from staring at my shirt, to see the grin that I’ve had on my face since he gave me that kiss. My thumb moved along the grooves of Frank's knuckles as I shifted forward, just enough that it was barely noticeable, though my chest was now pressed up against his.

I was still propped up on my elbow, so I had to lean down to press my lips to his hair, whispering a "Thank you" before I heard the door at the top of the stairs open, followed by voices that sounded a lot like Mikey and our Mom.

"It's nothing Mom! Gee just spilled some paint!" Mikey yelled as he descended down a few stairs; the upper half of his body still leaned in toward the kitchen.

"Oh no! He will not use my brand new wash cloths!"

I heard her high heels clicking across the floor in the kitchen, and soon heard her push open the door at the top of the stairs. From where she stood, she was able to see down into my room and onto my bed; just where Frank was lying.

Before she was able to see him sprawled out under my covers, I tugged his hand that was now frozen on my neck to lie around my middle, and I mumbled a "Sorry" before pulling the abandoned blankets up and over his head. I heard him let out a squeak as I pushed myself completely against him, making it look like I was the only one laying there.

I saw her descend a few stairs, glaring over Mikey's shoulder and pointing an accusing finger. "If you stain my new towels, I will not be happy."

I shot her a grin as I leaned toward the edge of the bed; closer to Frank's now trembling body. His hand was still gripping the back of my shirt, and I could feel his nails in my back from how hard he was holding on.

I moved my arm to rest across his middle, and when he let out a groan and clutched my back even tighter, I noticed the pressure I was putting on his side.

I was thankful that Mikey had finally ushered our mother back up the stairs, but first making sure to toss the ice down the stairs that was securely wrapped up in a plastic baggy and cloth for Frank. I snatched it up quickly, before reaching over to push the blankets off of his head.

Frank’s face was pressed against the front of my shirt, hidden from view. His quick breaths were flowing right through the fabric, heating my skin. His stomach was flush against my own, and his arm was wrapped around my middle so hard, that I was beginning to hurt a bit. He was shaking, and not from being cold; he was practically radiating heat.

“Oh, Frankie,” I murmured, before propping myself up on my elbow once again. My other arm reached out over his body to curl my fingers around the back of his neck, and pulled my head forward to let it rest against the side of his own so that I could whisper in his ear.

“I'm sorry I hurt you again.”

++

“She said it was fine. I called when you were gone.”

I smirked from my place against Mikey's bedroom doorway, arms crossed against my chest. "Did Frank's Mom actually believe you? I know how bad of a liar you are."

Mikey looked amused over his textbook, but did nothing but laugh and nod. "I didn't lie. I told the truth. All I said was that Frank was staying over, and that's all she needed to know." Mikey looked smug as he tilted his head to the side. "Nice pants by the way."

I dropped my gaze to the piece of clothing in my hand that I had grabbed from my drawer before heading upstairs, and rolled my eyes. "Your sarcasm isn't necessary."

Mikey chuckled before hiding himself behind his book once more. "You should know by now how much I hate that stupid show."

I shook my head at him, disappointed. "I still don't get you, man. And I don't think I ever will. It's a crime not to love Spongebob."

Mikey shook his head, but smiled at me nonetheless.

"You love me," I grinned, letting myself actually enter his room and perching myself down on the edge of his bed. I dropped my Spongebob pajama pants as I did so, before scooting up his small bed and let my head drop on the edge of his pillow that he wasn't propped up against.

I squinted down at his book--geometry, I think--before reaching across him to click on his bedside lamp. The only light that was coming into his room was the lamp post across the street and through his window, and I really didn't understand how he could even make out what the text said. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the new light before realizing that it was his Italian workbook.

"How the hell do you even do work without that on?" I mumbled as I scooted closer to him. I was nearly slipping off the side of his twin sized bed; thankfully, I have a bigger one downstairs.

"I have perfect vision, that's how," Mikey stated. I glanced up at him quick, watching him push his glasses further up on his nose while bringing his book just that much closer to his face. He squinted quickly before nodding to himself, and scribbling down his answer in the blank. I pinched his leg and he yelped, elbowing my chest and almost making me tumble off the side of the bed.

"Yeah, perfect vision my ass."

Mikey rolled his eyes before turning his complete attention back to his work. I glanced down at the page his was scribbling on before frowning as he flipped it shut, page half complete, and tossing it to the end of his bed.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I watched him get up from the bed to shove his abandoned workbook in his backpack.

He raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"How are you passing that class if you don't even finish the work?"

Mikey grinned as he dropped his backpack next to his dresser before pulling out a pair of his own pajama pants, unfortunately missing out on my favorite yellow guy, and tossing them on the bed next to me. "Frank knows a bit of Italian, so I ask him when I get stuck."

I gawked at my little brother, barely even comprehending what he had just said to me. I haven't even heard Frank speak _english_ , and Mikey's already heard him speak in a whole different language? It was hardly fair that my little brother got to hear him speak at all.

I blinked a few times, before realizing Mikey was looking at me, obviously confused.

"Or lazy," I finally point out, and he goes to open his mouth to protest, but quickly closes it and shrugs.

"Like you weren't lazy in both high school and college," Mikey laughed, as he tugged out a shirt from the depths of the same dresser drawer and letting it join his pants on the bed.

"Whatever," I scoffed, as I sat up against the pillows and stretched out my legs; laughing to myself when they hung over the end of the bed. "I'm doing very well in college right now, thank you very much."

"You go back after winter break, right?" Mikey asked, as he slipped his glasses off and set them on his bedside table, before rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes.

"Not back on campus, no. My art director found out about this place here in the city where I can do my work, and still get credits," I replied with a shrug.

Mikey nods along, ruffling his hair as he yawns. "Work meaning what?"

I shrug again as I yawn as well; his yawn was apparently contagious. "I've talked to the guy who runs the place a few times before the semester ended. He said they do a lot of comics, plus a whole bunch of life-like portraits for magazines and stuff. My art director sent in some of my drawings, and the guy who runs everything told him that he's going to have me doing a little bit of everything. I was told that I have to be 'willing and able to do anything'."

“Sounds more like fun than work, Gee,” Mikey mused. “Especially for you.”

I grinned up at him, as my head tilted to the side. "I get paid too! How exciting is that?"

Mikey's mouth falls open and he huffs, as his arms flailed out in front of him in an attempt to portray how upset he was about the situation.

I snorted, and his arms stilled and fell to his sides.

“Oh, that's really attractive.”

“I love you too, baby brother.”

++

Frank giggled. _Giggled_ at me when I finally found my way back down to my room.

"What?" I frowned, as I reached up to wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, because those powdered donuts I found sitting on the counter looked way too good to pass up. When my hand showed no evidence of anything on my face, I raised my eyebrows in question.

Frank was now laying on his back, the arm on his good side was tucked under his head, while his right arm lay across his stomach. His fingers were wrapped around the black sharpie I had sitting on my bedside table alongside my sketchbook, which still lay closed on top of the table. The sheets were pulled up to his hips and his shirt was riding up, and I soon found myself shamelessly staring at the strip of skin that was showing.

That was until I noticed the beginning of the dark purple patch that now adorned his side.

I picked up the abandoned bag of ice and wash cloth that Mikey had tossed downstairs earlier, before standing alongside Frank on the bed. I had an old coffee cup sitting next to my alarm clock on my bedside table, and I used that to empty the melted ice into it before sealing up the zip lock bag once again.

“What was so funny?”

Frank smiled up at me shyly, before reaching out and tugging at my pants.

I chuckled, and couldn't help but smile myself. "Mikey made fun of them when I went upstairs. Can you believe that?"

Frank rolled his eyes at my comment, before a stuttered breath fell from his mouth when I pressed what ice was left in the baggy to his side. I apologized, as I tucked the wash cloth under the bag to catch any drips that would soak my sheets.

Frank shivered, and I couldn't blame him; my fingers were cold just holding the bag.

I tugged the sheet over the rest of Frank's body, before pulling the thicker blanket up also; but making sure not to shift the ice pack from his side. He used his free hand to tuck the blanket under both of his arms before resting them on his covered stomach, and twirling the sharpie between his fingers.

"You want to draw something?" I nodded toward the sketchbook that was still laying on the bedside table.

Frank opened his mouth and looked up at me quickly, before his face turned a nice shade of pink and he shrugged and he shook his head back and forth.

I let out a small laugh; sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Frank's stretched out legs. "It's totally okay if you don't want to," I said, and glanced over at the alarm clock sitting next to the sketchbook. "'Cause damn. It's kind of late anyways, and you have to go to school tomorrow."

Frank stifled a laugh behind his hand, before it quickly turned into a yawn.

I grinned. "I may sound like your mother or something, telling you to go to bed already, but see. Even your body's telling you to sleep. So there."

Frank rolled his eyes playfully at me, before sticking his tongue out in my direction before trying to hide another yawn behind the blanket he now had pulled over his face.

"Nice try," I patted his outstretched leg and pushed myself off the bed to head across the room to my closet. I swung the door open, using the dim light from my room to find the extra blanket I kept on the top shelf. I tucked it under my arm before shutting the door behind me to make my way back over to the alarm clock next to my bed.

"I'll just set the alarm for, what? Seven?" I shrugged down at Frank, fingers clicking the buttons on the top of the clock. "Will that give you enough time to get ready in the morning?"

Frank looked up at me and then the blanket that was tucked under my arm with confusion written across his face, before nodding slowly.

I nodded, and set the time and flicked the new alarm time on. I turned to face him and reached over his body to grab a pillow from the other side of my bed. "I'll just be up on the couch. You'll probably be the first up, since Mikey and I can never seem to wake up," I laughed, before reaching down to Frank's side to feel through the covers to feel that his ice pack was still pressed up against his side.

Frank's eyes were a bit wide when my own met his; his head shaking rapidly back and forth.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, as my eyes scanned over him. Was he uncomfortable? Was his side still really bothering him?

His head continued to move back and forth, and I could see his chest beginning to rise and fall faster than it had been before.

My own eyes went wide at the sight in front of me; it all sort of felt like déjà vu to the beginning stages of the panic attack that Frank had in my living room just a few days ago.

"Frank," my voice sounded more panicked then I wanted it too, and I hoped it didn't scare Frank as much as it scared me. I reached down to grab his free hand while the other still gripped the sharpie tightly; his knuckles turning white with the pressure. His hand was clammy and shaking inside of mine.

His eyes began darting all around my face, never staying in one place for more than a couple of seconds.

"I need you to tell me what's wrong," I knelt down next to the bed, face pleading as the hand that wasn't holding Frank's brushed away the hair that began to fall into his eyes. I didn't want to scare him by telling him that if he didn't calm down that he was going to fall back into another panic attack; but I refrained. Mikey told me the day after the incident in our living room that Frank's never had an attack before that day. It had to be scary as hell for Frank to go through the first time; I didn't want to have him live through another one again so soon.

The hair I once pushed away from his forehead slipped back down to soak up the sweat that had appeared almost out of nowhere. Frank's cheeks were now bright pink and I let my hand slip down to cradle his cheek. In just the last few minutes, he went from shivering cold to burning up.

"Frankie," I whispered, before removing my hand from his and tugging the blankets down his body, and moving the icepack from his side to rest it against his forehead in an attempt to cool him off a bit.

At the sound of his nickname, he let his eyes lock with mine. I looked down at him pleadingly, and now I really didn't care how desperate I sounded. "I [i]need[/i] you to tell me what's wrong. Did I do something? I'll fix it, I swear Frankie," I paused, removing the icepack from his forehead, now holding both sides of Frank's face to pull him forward just enough to press my lips against his damp forehead. "Please…"

Frank whimpered from beneath me, which caused me to pull back, just in time to notice and brush away the single tear that found its way down his face.

Frank’s shaking hand reached up and took hold of my own, pulling it away from his face. He held it out in front of him, and I couldn't help but entwine my fingers with his as they shook. I watched his other hand; fingers still wrapped tightly around the black sharpie. He raised it in between us, thumb pushing and slipping off the cap, causing him to whimper once again.

Before I could reach out and help him pull the cap off, because apparently watching him struggle was a better idea, he stuck the marker cap in his mouth and pulled it off with his teeth.

Frank turned our entwined hands so my inner arm was facing him, and he raised the marker to my skin with trembling fingers; the cap falling from his mouth and tumbling to the floor next to me.

His hand blocked what he was writing; the marker digging into my skin a bit harder then I would like, but I kept my mouth shut, and after seconds of struggling to keep his hand still enough to spell out what was going on inside of his pretty little head, he let his hand fall to the bed.

_**stay** _

I stared at the bold black letters now adorning my arm, and it was only when Frank's hand reappeared into my view, blocking the single word from view, that I finally blinked and looked back down at him.

His lips were parted and his chin was quivering, and at that second I would have given anything to make it stop.

The sharpie was digging into my arm again, and when the marker fall from Frank's grip onto the bed, his hand quickly followed, and the three words he scribbled underneath the first; these a bit smaller, and much more rushed, I couldn't help but melt just a little bit inside.

_**i need you** _

"God," I rushed, standing up from my kneeling position to push myself against Frank, my face pressing into his neck. It was drenched in sweat, but I didn't care. "I'll stay. Of course I'll stay. Jesus, Frankie--"

Frank whimpered as his arms moved to wrap around my neck and pull me closer toward him. I attempted to remove myself from Frank, just to run across the room to click the lights off, but his arms just tightened around my neck.

Half bent over; knees resting on the side of the bed almost awkwardly, I moved my mouth to his ear as my hands found their place on his hips. "I'm not leaving, Frankie. I promise. I'm just going to turn the lights off, okay?"

His arms tightened even more, as his lips pressed lightly against my neck.

I kissed the side of his head; once, twice, before speaking again. "It will take just a second, and I'll be right back. I promise, Frankie."

He whimpered again, though his arms loosened significantly. I pulled away slowly, just enough to be face to face with him. I pressed a kiss to his cheek before moving back more, as his arms gradually began slipping from my neck.

I pushed myself away from the bed as Frank's hand reached and gripped the front of my shirt; much less shaky than it was earlier, before I could fully stand. I looked down, and went to pull his hand from my shirt when I noticed the black smudge now marking my shirt. Frank's other hand held the sharpie that had been pressed between us, uncapped, and he looked frightened; eyes flicking between the stain and the marker in his hand.

I took the sharpie from his hand, gently, before throwing it in the general direction of my desk. "It's alright, Frankie," I smiled, and his hand loosened up on my shirt. "I don't really even like this shirt to begin with."

His lips twitched into an itty bitty smile, before he retracted his hand, and let me stand all the way up so I could run across the room to the light switch. I clicked it off quickly, before blindly making my way back to the bed; accidentally digging my knee into Frank's leg when I went to crawl to the other side of the bed.

For being a king sized bed, we really weren't using up that much of it.

Frank quickly latched himself onto me the best that he could in the dark; his elbow knocking into my nose and his knee coming very close to a bad place, before we finally got comfortable. I pulled only the sheet up around us and held him closely; as Frank slowly became less panicked and more at ease as the time passed.

We ended up lying just like we had been earlier, facing each other on our sides, though Frank's arm was now around my waist, and his legs were tangled with mine. His face was pressed to my chest, and his nose bumped my chin when he moved his head up as I said his name.

"Are you alright now?"

I felt him shift so that he could rest his head on the same pillow my own head was lying on, and with the small amount of light from outside shining in through the small window above my bed, I was able to see a sliver of his face which nodded yes.

"Do you want the ice back on your side?"

I secretly hoped that he didn't, because I had no idea where I had thrown it in the commotion earlier, and plus I would have to move from Frank to search for it.

He seemed to realize the same thing, and shook his head no.

I knew that it was late, and that we needed to get up early in the morning, but I didn't want this to end anytime soon. I didn't want to fall asleep and wake up the next day, and watch Frank go off with Mikey. To go talk to Mikey. I wanted him to stay here, and want to be with me. Maybe this whole cuddling scene that was happening at this moment was just a reaction Frank had when he was scared about being left alone. Maybe he would have done this with anyone who was around and tried to leave him alone in a place he wasn't familiar with. Maybe I wasn't as special as I felt at this moment, after all.

I felt Frank shift again, and the hand that he had around my middle retracted from behind my back to move up to my face, tentatively moving to cup my cheek. I first felt the press of his forehead against mine, before I felt the press of his lips at the corner of my mouth.

It took all of my willpower to not turn my head the extra inch to fully press our lips together, but he moved back before I would have even been able to do so.

He let his arm move back down to its former place, pressing our chests together, and let his breathing even out.

Maybe, just maybe, I was special to Frank after all.


	17. Frank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, it's not over!! I have a couple more pre-written chapters after this one, but I've slacked on updating after that. Hopefully I'll be able to continue writing soon!!

January 9th, 2000  
 _**Friday; afternoon** _

"Frank, I need you to pay attention to the notes."

The loud thwack of Ms. Murphy’s ruler on the black board had my eyes snapping up; cringing when I saw most of the board covered with notes in white chalk. I nodded, embarrassed as everyone turned to look at me in the back of the room, and picked up my pen to begin writing down the jumble of letters and numbers.

Ms. Murphy started up with her monotone lecture once again, and my pen slowly came to a halt and dropped back down on my open notebook. My fist fit under my chin as I stared at the back of the chair in front of me; focus on anything going on around me totally lost.

After last weekend, I hadn’t really been able to concentrate much on anything at all. Anything that didn’t have to do with Gerard, that is.

I lifted my other hand to my face, end of my newest sweatshirt balled up in my palm. The cuffs of both arms of the sweatshirt were frayed and worn, and there was a small rip in the stitching of the left shoulder. It was a pull over, and about two sizes too big for me, but I couldn’t care less. It smelt like Gerard, and that’s all that mattered.

I stared down at the bright blue fabric in between my fingers and smiled. Last Monday when Gerard brought Mikey and I to school, he had realized and remembered before we left that the hoodie I had borrowed from him had been ruined the day before, and found the one I was currently wearing hanging in his closet. He had apologized about its condition, and offered the tight fitting one he had been wearing at the time, but I refused.

This one was perfect; roomy and warm, and I think it was when Gerard watched me wrap myself up in the material that he realized that he wasn’t getting his hoodie back any time soon. He just smiled and said, “Keep it as long as you like, Frankie.”

I was jerked out of my thoughts for the second time this class period, but not by the teacher. The legs of my desk scratched against the linoleum floor as it was kicked from behind, and when I finally lifted my head from staring at my hands, everyone in the class was again turned back around to stare at me.

“Pass it back, dude.”

I spun around to the voice, to notice that he was pointing in front of me with a flustered look on his face. I turned to see the girl in front of me, eyes rolling when I spot the packets of paper she has held out for me to take. I frown and snatch them from her when she shakes them in my face, taking one before passing it to Mr. Impatient behind me.

I chance a look up at Ms. Murphy and see her eyeing me suspiciously from behind her desk; small half moon glasses perched at the end of her nose, pen _tap tap tapping_ against her grade book. I sink lower in my desk and out of her eye line before I glanced down at the paper I had been given as the room suddenly filled with the sound of scratching pencils on paper.

My eyes widened as I read ‘Pop Quiz’ written at the top of the paper. I flipped through the two-page packet filled with math problems. I squinted down at the clutter of numbers and letters and internally groaned.

And I actually groaned out loud when I noticed that everyone was using the notes they took from the chalkboard; the ones I ignored and the ones that weren’t written on the board anymore.

“Frank! I need you to stop interrupting my class! Please collect your things and make your way to my desk.”

The whole class snickered as my face burnt bright red, clashing dramatically with my bright blue sweatshirt. I flipped my notebook, note less I might add, shoving my unmarked quiz between the pages, and slinging my backpack hooked to the back of my chair over my shoulder. I kept my head down as I shuffled to the front of the room. Ms. Murphy was scribbling on an office referral sheet; the paper bright pink just to let everyone know as you walked through the halls that you’d done something wrong. Some grinned and waved the paper around to others like it was no big deal; like they were proud they had gotten sent to the office.

I on the other hand tucked it alongside the blank quiz in my notebook and silently exited the class.

++

It was always freezing cold in Principal Anderson’s office, no matter what time of year it was. The dark shades on her floor to ceiling windows behind her desk were always pulled shut, and it seemed like she had a bright lamp glowing in every corner of the room, while her computer illuminated the area around her desk.

The chairs were black plastic and uncomfortable. Every time I shifted, the chair would squeak and creak, and Principal Anderson would look up from typing on her keyboard to peer over the desk at me.

Principal Anderson had to be at least sixty years old; she had been working at the school for ages. Her face was wrinkled and old, and she would have to occasionally use the cane she had sitting next to her desk to walk through the halls. She spent half of her time at her computer hunched over, nose practically pressed up against the glowing screen.

“Frank,” her voice was soft and quiet, and I could barely hear her over the loud buzz of her computer. “This is the second time in the last month that you’ve been sent to my office. Is there something going on that’s causing you to lose focus in class?”

Upon entering Belleview High four years ago, my mom had made sure the Principal knew all about my problems with communicating. She was able to assign my classes with teachers that were understanding about my condition, and were able to work around it. She also had meetings every once in a while with my mom and I about how school was going for me, so they were connected on some level.

So Principal Anderson always had a bright yellow pad of paper sitting at the end of her desk next to her mug of various pens. I’m pretty sure she kept all the papers I’ve ever doodled on in a folder buried in her desk.

I kept my head down, staring at my intertwined fingers lying in my lap. I didn’t want to tell her about Gerard. She didn’t need to know about my enormous gay crush on my best friend’s brother. She didn’t need to know my business.

Usually I have someone else in the room with me; my mom or Mikey usually tag along. Usually my meetings in this office were planned and scheduled, not spur of the moment like this one. I use either my mom or Mikey as a rock; they’re there when I begin to feel uncomfortable alone with this woman, and they’re able to keep me in line without even knowing that they are doing so. By just being there I’m able to communicate to Principal Anderson whatever she wants to know.

But now, not only am I alone with her in this room, but she also wants me to talk about what’s been bothering me. What distracted me from class enough to get me sent out. I wasn’t even able to talk to Mikey about Gerard; both in the sense that I wasn’t about to bring up my crush on his brother, but also because I had lost my voice because of the cold I received the day after our snow adventures.

I haven’t been able to talk to him about anything in almost a week.

“Frank, can you answer my question?” Principal Anderson leaned over her desk, glasses now hanging from the cord connected to the earpieces, and crashing against the desk as she moved forward to nudge the pad of paper towards me.

I sniff, my nose starting to act up and become clogged, and shrug my shoulders.

I hear her sigh before hearing the creak of her chair, indicating that she’s leaned back; scrutinizing me behind those half moon glasses she’s probably slipped back on her face. And when I take a quick glance up, that’s exactly what she’s doing.

“If I get Michael out of class to come down to sit in, will you then tell me what’s causing you trouble in your classes?”

I don’t respond and she sighs, picking up the phone as I scuff my feet against the carpet, occasionally knocking them against the corner of her desk. I know Mikey isn’t in class right now; he let me know this morning that he had an eye appointment right after third hour English we shared. I had Math fifth hour, so he was long gone.

Principal Anderson sighed into the phone, thanking the teacher on the other end before hanging up. “Alright, it seems Michael had former arrangements this afternoon, and isn’t in class at this time.”

I shrug again, because there really isn’t anything else I could do at that point. I just wanted her to let me leave and go home.

“Well, I can try and contact your mother for a conference. She would be at work at this time, correct Frank?”

I shrug and shift in my chair. I didn’t want a conference, and I didn’t want my mom coming down to the school.

Principal Anderson picked up her phone and punched in the numbers she read off of the computer screen. I sunk lower in the chair, crossing my legs at my ankles, and pulling the cuffs of my new sweatshirt into my palms once again. My lip ring clicked against my teeth in synch with the tick of the clock hanging from the wall, and it was then that I began to freak out.

I didn’t want my mom to know about any of this, because then she would ask the same questions the principal was asking. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight until I told her either.

But after a few rings and no answer, Principal Anderson sighed and hung up the phone. I internally sighed.

She lifted the phone from its base once more, leaning in close to the computer screen to read off another number out loud. “Is that still your home number, Frank?”

I nodded as she punched it into the phone. “I’ll try your home since there wasn’t an answer at her work.”

It clicks in my head then that it’s Friday, and that every Friday the bakery she works at is closed. That also means that since its Friday, she’s out at her mom’s house for lunch, which starts in the early afternoon, and doesn’t end forever since they both love to talk.

I actually smile when Principal Anderson sighs down at her phone once again. She doesn’t hang up right away, and waits for a few extra seconds before leaving a message; stating her name and where she’s from, like my mom wouldn’t know where the Principal worked at or something.

Instead of hanging up the phone completely, she just used her finger to do so before glancing at the computer once again to punch in another number.

“It says that your emergency contact information is Donna and Don Way, is that correct?”

My eyes widen, and I nod. Both of Mikey’s parents aren’t home, which means that the only person that should be home will be Gerard. Oh please, let him be home.

“Hello? Is this Don Way? –Gerard Way? Hello, Gerard.”

I smiled into my fist that still happened to be wrapped up in my new hoodie.

“This is Principal Anderson down at Belleview High School. I’m here with Frank Iero. This number was written down as his emergency contact.”

I cringed; the way she was stating things made it sound like something way worse had happened to me then what actually did.

“Oh, no Mr. Way, nothing bad happened, I assure you,” she leaned forward in her chair to watch me from behind those half moon glasses. “I have Frank in my office, and he’s not being as flexible about the situation he’s put himself in as I would like.”

I watched her nod a few times, and I continued clicking my lip ring along with the clock.

“We usually have someone down here to help us work with him. He only communicates with faculty if he has Michael down here with us, and unfortunately he’s been excused from class this afternoon.” She stops talking, and I can hear a faint voice on the other end of the line, and I frown at her.

I know it’s only Gerard on the other end of the line, but anything that happens in her office is said to only stay with the people in the office. And now that she’s telling someone else about what goes down with these meetings that I absolutely hate attending makes me mad. And also the fact that she’s talking about me like I’m not even sitting three feet from her upsets me, too.

“Yes, I would normally have the school psychologist come in and talk with him, but he doesn’t seem to be responding to anything at this point. If you could come to the school and assist him home, that would be wonderful. Class should be ending in an hour, but I’m willing to let him go early with the intention that he is to tell his mother all about this afternoon, understood?”

I didn’t know if she wanted me to agree and shake my head, or have Gerard agree, but I wasn’t about to respond to anything she was saying. She was completely breaking the rules of privacy right now, even if it was just to Gerard. Maybe she’s told others. I would never know at this point.

My eyes began to sting as I dug my fists into my eyes until I see colors.

“We’ll wait out in the lobby, alright Frank?”

I shot up from my seat, vision spotty, and I hauled my bag over my shoulder and stormed out of the room.

The lobby is directly outside of Principal Anderson’s office, and those black plastic chairs found their way out there, too. I sniff and clear my throat as I take a seat, avoiding the eyes of the secretary and passing students. I keep my head low, and try to calm myself down because my eyes are still burning and I’m really starting to not be able to breathe out of my nose anymore.

It feels like hours of sitting and staring at the light brown carpet before someone squats down in front of me, face light and a smile falling across her lips when I look up at her. “You’re Frank, right?”

I squint down at her as she balances on her toes, black binder resting on top of her thighs. Her arms are crossed over her chest, blocking her name tag from view. I nod slowly.

“I’m Susie, nice to meet you,” she smiles at me, but I can’t muster up anything to smile back. “Principal Anderson might have mentioned me.”

My eyebrows come together in confusion, and I glance quickly behind her at the front doors, wishing Gerard would bust through them and take me home.

“Well, in case she hasn’t,” she keeps up the happy charade, and I’m not impressed. I’m acting like an ass, and all she does is smile. Smile and talk like that’s what she gets paid to do. And it was then that I realized who she was. “I’m the school psychologist.”

I shake my head and bury myself into my new sweatshirt. I was not going to talk to another psychologist about my problems. I had to do that in the past, and it never worked.

“Frank, all I want to do is help you, alright?”

My face was hot and my eyes were wet, and I hated myself. I was crying again, and I hated it.

“Frank, anything and everything we discuss will be confidential and just between us, yeah?”

I let out a sharp, airy breath that was supposed to sound like a sarcastic laugh, but came out more as a sob. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Maybe Susie was telling the truth. Maybe she was one of the only people that kept their word when it came to privacy, but I didn’t want to take the chance.

“Frankie?”

I’m glad Susie had moved out from in front of me when I heard Gerard’s voice, or else I would have knocked her clean over.

Gerard’s hair was windswept and messy, and it looked like he might have just woken up, which didn’t surprise me at all. He was wearing the jacket with the broken buttons, so I was clearly able to see the light grey t-shirt that he wore underneath.

He hurriedly made his way through the entrance way and into the lobby, mouth turned down into a frown. “What happened?”

I sniff once more as he steps up to me, hands moving to rest on either side of my face and thumbs gently sweeping under my eyes. I shrug halfheartedly.

“Mr. Way? Hello, I’m Principal Anderson.”

Gerard lifts his head to nod to the Principal, arm looping around my middle and pulling me against him. I pushed my face into the front of his jacket as they spoke.

Principal Anderson has been the Principal of Belleview High for a gazillion years, but she couldn’t remember who attended the school just years ago, so she just nodded and ushered Gerard to the front desk.

“If you could sign out Mr. Iero right here, you two will be alright to go.”

Gerard kept me tucked under his arm as he writes down the required information, his fingers moving in slow circles on my side in an attempt to comfort me.

I buried myself deeper into his jacket.

++

"Princess, no," Gerard mumbled apologetically, closing my bedroom door to the whining retriever pouting on the other side.

I could barely breathe through my nose at this point, half because of the cold I had gotten from our snow adventures a few days beforehand, and half because I was having a hard time stopping myself from crying. I hated crying, and I seemed to be doing a lot of it lately. Especially in front of Gerard. I sniffled and pulled the sleeve of my newest sweatshirt into my palm to wipe at my nose, and then my eyes.

Gerard crossed my room, tugging his jacket off as he went. He folded it haphazardly, tossing it onto the chair at my desk before turning to me. "I need a notebook. And a pen."

I gestured to the desk behind him, and motioned for him to slide open the drawer. It was when he reached for the handle that I noticed his arm; bold black letters faded just a bit, but still legible written on the inside of his arm. My handwriting. I felt my lips tug up in a smile despite my mood.

Gerard's movements were rushed and hurried as he slammed the drawer shut, supplies in hand. He moved to join me at the end of my bed, flipping open the notebook to a random page, and set it and the pen on my lap.

"I," he cleared his throat, fist covering his mouth. He took a deep breath, eyes flicking up to scan over my face and then to rest on my eyes. "Tell me what's up. What's going on in your head right now? I- I'm sick of not knowing exactly what you're thinking, and it's driving me crazy," he said, as a smile fell across his face.

I returned his small smile, chin quivering, and I shrugged.

He prodded at the notebook in my lap. "Please, Frank? I know what they told me at your school, but I need you to tell me what happened. They said that you're usually okay with communicating with supervisors at school, but you just wouldn't today."

I shrug again, fingers finding the pen to begin tapping it against the paper, small black dots marking the page with every drop of the pen.

"Frank," Gerard murmured, placing his hand on top of mine to still the tapping. "You can tell me what's wrong. I'm here to listen."

I really didn't want to get frustrated with Gerard, but that last line he spoke was something that I've heard one too many times from doctors, teachers, and those stupid supervisors in the office at school that always want to hear my issues. Problem is, they can't actually hear me, and the fact that they have to use that word just upsets me, because they know that I can't talk.

I sigh loudly, pulling my hand out from under his to write, not caring if my words didn't make it between the little blue lines on the paper.

_listen to what? the scratch of this pen on this paper? cause that's all i can give you_

I dropped the notebook and pen in Gerard's lap before getting up and moving to pace back and forth at the end of the bed. My eyes were beginning to sting again, and I groaned out loud, because I was absolutely sick of it.

Princess let out a yelp from the other side of the door, nails scratching at the wood. I stomped my foot, surprisingly loud for only wearing socks, and I heard her take off down the hall; nails clicking against the hardwood floor.

"Frank, you know what I meant," Gerard spoke, voice quiet, but I avoided his eyes by scrubbing at my own with my fingers, continuing to pace in front of him.

I knew he didn’t mean for me to take it the wrong way; that he was just trying to help me. If I was in his situation; somehow getting sucked into being the guy that his little brother’s best friend depends on for anything and everything, I wouldn’t be able to keep anything straight either.

It was when he stuck out a hand to grab hold on my arm and pull me towards him, that I finally looked at him. I could feel my face was hot and most likely embarrassingly tear stained, but I couldn’t help it at this point. I wanted Gerard to understand what was really going on in my head, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him like I wanted to at this point in time. I wanted to scream at him. Scream that not being able to actually speak to him is driving me absolutely crazy. That he is driving me absolutely crazy, because I’d never felt this way about anyone in my entire life, and I wasn’t able to talk to him about how I felt.

I sniffed, and looked back down at Gerard still sitting on the end of my bed; both of my hands still tucked between his. He was looking back up at me; eyes wide and mouth slack, like he had no idea what to say.

“Frank,” he began, before I began shaking my head and pulling my hands from his to pick up the notebook sitting next to his thigh.

I had to use the cuff of my new sweatshirt to wipe at my eyes, because damn it, I couldn’t make out where I was scribbling on the paper at this point.

_i like it when you call me frankie_

“Okay. Yeah, alright,” Gerard cleared his throat as he looked down at the paper and nodded. “Frankie.” He reached up with the hand that wasn’t holding the notebook to run his thumb across my cheek. “Please stop crying, Frankie.”

I blinked my eyes quickly, clearing away the tears that built up there and took a deep breath; trying my best to stop them from falling down my face. His hand fell from my face as I went to sit down next to him; thighs pressed together. I reached across his lap, pen still in hand to press it against the paper.

_i cant talk_

I paused to watch Gerard’s eyebrows come together, confusion written across his face as he turned his head to look at me. I was quick to continue scribbling; I didn’t want to make eye contact until I was finished saying everything I wanted him to know, because I know that I would chicken out if that happened.

_to anyone about this. not even mikey_

“Mikey told me that you lost your voice. Is-is that what this is about?” Gerard tried, hand moving to block me from continuing to write. “He said you get colds really easy, and that must be what made your voice go. Your voice, Frankie. I know,” he paused when I started shaking my head, but continued talking anyways. “I know how much you love talking to Mikey, because I know he’s one of the only people that you can talk to. It’s my fault that you lost it. It was my idea to go out in the snow. Frankie, I’m so sorry.”

I reached back over him, writing on the bottom of the page, like a side note, and silencing anything he was about to continue saying.

_id love to talk to you too_

I heard him let out a breathy laugh, and when I took a chance to glance up at him, he was looking down at the sheet, grin on his face.

“Me too, Frankie. Me too.”

I smile too, sniffing once more to try and breathe through my nose that still felt clogged, before blocking his view once again to write back up at the top of the page.

I pause, though, when I run over what I was going to write in my head, trying to rephrase it in a way that won’t make me turn bright red and possibly run as far away as possible from the boy next to me.

“Frankie?”

I took a breath and cleared my throat like I was about to speak the words I was writing on paper. I wrote quickly and sloppily, before jumping up from the bed to walk to the furthest place in the room from Gerard.

I drop the pen on my desk on my way to the door, contemplating just wrenching it open and tearing down the stairs, but thought against it when I heard Gerard let out a noise; one half way between and cry and sigh.

I closed my eyes and dropped my forehead to the door, letting it bump against it a few times before sighing and letting it rest against the wood.

The faint squeak of my bed frame told me that Gerard had pushed himself up from the bed, and by the creak in the floor board just to the right of my desk told me that he was standing right behind me. I held my breath as I felt him breathing against the back of my neck, and almost jumped out of my skin when I felt his hands come to rest against my hips.

He rested his forehead against the back of my head, and I shivered when he let out a laugh, his breath tickling my neck. “Are you… Really? Seriously, Frankie?”

I open my eyes to stare straight at the dark wood and concentrate on breathing normally. My hands find their way to rest on top of his, fingers digging into my own hips as I set them between his; palms resting on tops of his hands. I nod.

Gerard inhales sharply through his nose before stepping forward to press his front flush against my back, moving both pairs of hands to wrap around my front, and pressing his face into the side of my neck. “Thank God.”

I turn my head, and felt Gerard’s hair brushing against my cheek. I let go of his hands, and he loosens his grip around me, but doesn’t let go as I turn completely around in his arms so that I am facing him. I can’t help but grin down at his shirt; still too nervous to meet his eyes as he tightens his arms around me once again.

“Hey,” Gerard chuckles, dipping his head to find my eyes still avoiding his, but when I saw probably one of the largest smiles I’ve seen him make, I had to attempt to be brave and meet his eyes. If it was possible, his grin grew that much larger.

He pushed his forehead against mine, tipping my head up further so that our noses were touching too. “I’ve sort of been waiting for you to say that for a while now. And by ‘say’,” he rushed the last line when I rolled my sore eyes, dropping my vision to the floor before his hand slipped from around my back to gently grip my face. He lifted my chin to move my eyes back to his. “You know what I mean.”

I smile; my face almost starting to hurt from doing it so much, and I could feel my face start to burn at his words. The sloppy, barely legible words I had scribbled were sitting right across the room, and I don’t think I was ever more happy that I didn’t have to say those words out loud. I could barely write those words; I don’t know if I would have been able to speak them even if I was able to.

_i kind of like you. kind of a lot actually_

Gerard moved his hand from my chin to my cheek, running his fingers gently across my skin. He took a step closer, arm that was still around me moving to my hip once again, grazing against the bruise on my side that hurt less and less with everyday that passed; my back now pressed up against the door. His fingers trailed from my cheek to sweep across my lips, eyes following his fingers. He brushes against my lip ring, and his eyes flick down before an embarrassed smile falls across his lips. “I’ve never kissed anyone with a lip ring before.”

The smile drops from my face; not because I wasn’t happy. Oh Christ, not because of that.

I just felt like I was about to faint, that was all.

My eyes feel like they were about to fall from my head, and Gerard chuckles lightly before becoming quiet.

His grip loosens significantly; hands barely touching my sides, and he takes a few steps back. “That’s-that’s what you meant by like me, right? Or - Oh shit, Frankie. Did I just fuck everything up? I didn’t mean to, I just figured and really, **really** hoped-”

Gerard’s rambling stopped when I reached for both of his hands, tugging them to wrap back around me, because I really liked it when he did that. My own, now nervously shaking hands went to rest on the front of Gerard’s shirt, fingers gripping the fabric to pull him against me. I took a deep breath, chest rising to Gerard’s, before I looked up at him with a smile. Everything had gone as well as it could have so far, and all I had to do now was not fuck this part up.

Problem was, I had no idea how to do it in the first place. So fucking things up was still a great possibility at this point.

I loosened my fingers from his shirt, running my palms over the wrinkles they left behind on the fabric. I was secretly hoping that he would realize that I had no idea what I was doing, and when he moved his hands from my hips to grab my own and set them on his hips, I inwardly sighed as he took over.

“Just, yeah,” he smiled as I pulled the end of his shirt into my grip, tugging lightly and shyly smiling back at him. “Don’t worry, okay?”

I nod, and took my bottom lip into my mouth. One of his hands reached up and brushed away the hair that fell into my eyes; his fingers trailing down my face to cup my cheek. His fingers brushed my ear as his other hand found its place against my neck.

Gerard dipped his head, forehead brushing mine before he breathed out a laugh against my lips, and it was then that I realized how close he was.

“Too long, Frankie. Too long.”

The second my teeth let go of my lower lip, Gerard pushed forward without warning to press his lips against my own.

My breathing hitched, eyes snapping shut, and I froze. His lips were warm against my icy pair, and this was the point that I figured I would freak out and not know what to do.

Gerard pulled back enough to speak, his lips still brushing against mine as he spoke. “Just relax and go with it, Frankie.”

I nod frantically, eyes flying open, because I really, really wanted him to kiss me again.

And again and again.

And that’s exactly what he did.

My hands pulled at his end of his shirt and he nudged forward just a bit, tilting his head to press his lips harder against my mouth. My eyes slipped shut as he started moving his lips; urging mine to start dancing along with his.

I figured I was doing it right when I heard him inhale sharply through his nose, hand tightening slightly on my neck, before he was sighing against my lips.

I had to grin when I figured out that I was having that effect on Gerard; my best friend’s older brother who I’ve been having very, _very_ inappropriate dreams about lately. It may only be just a small kiss, but it felt much bigger.

Gerard pulled back slightly when I couldn’t keep the huge smile off of my face, and he laughed out loud when I started to giggle.

“Is that a good giggle, or bad?” Gerard’s voice was low and scratchy, and so sexy that it actually made me visually shiver.

I smiled; eyes dropping to my hands on his waist, as my fingers slipped under his shirt to trail over his sides. I looked back up, needing to bounce up on my toes to push my lips against his quickly before dropping back down.

Gerard grinned and pushed his forehead against mine, as his hands moved once again to wrap around my waist. “Well, just so you know, I kind of like you a lot, too.”

I beam up at him; stomach flip flopping and head spinning with so many different thoughts. No one has ever said anything like that to me before, and when it was coming from the guy I was pretty crazy about, I couldn’t even think about what I was going to do with myself.

What I did do, though, was move my hands from his waist to his forearms to pull back the one marked with bold black sharpie. I traced over three of the words I had written days before with my pointer finger, eyes trained on Gerard, who had his own staring at his arm.

_i need you_

He didn’t move his eyes back to my own until I tugged his arms back around me, and all both of us could do was smile.

Gerard’s mouth opened and closed a few times, no words falling past his lips. He chuckled and shook his head. “What you do to me, Frankie.”

My head actually bumped into the door when he crashed his lips to mine again, but his arms tightened around my middle; pulling me closer, and all I could do was sigh and kiss back.


	18. Gerard

January 10th, 2000  
Saturday; afternoon

The loud bang from upstairs jolted me from my sleep, followed by Mikey’s loud voice; though I couldn't understand a word that he was saying.

I pushed myself up from my stomach to rest on my elbows; hand rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I yawned. Blinking a few times to clear my vision, I glanced over at my alarm clock; bright red letters shining 1:06 PM back at me. I chuckled to myself, not at all surprised that I wasn’t up before noon.

I throw the blankets off of my body, shivering when the cold air in my room hits my skin. There was a small breeze, and that was when I noticed that the window above my bed was still cracked from the night before. The craving for a late night cigarette was enough to get me to open the widow instead of going upstairs and out the front door. Apparently this is my reward for forgetting to shut it.

I will myself to get out of bed, knowing full well that once I made it upstairs, Frank will still be here. I grinned.

He was beginning to let me in; let me know what was going on inside of that pretty little head of his, and I was loving every minute of it.

I threw the covers back over my bed, attempting to make it look like I put some sort of effort into making the bed, before moving over to my dresser to grab a clean pair of boxers. I pulled off my current pair and skillfully launched them in the general direction of my hamper, and made it in with the flick of my foot.

I inwardly cheered as I pulled on the clean pair and moved to my closet; pulling the first pair of clean jeans I had hanging up.

The door at the top of the stairs slammed open, Mikey’s loud voice and equally loud footsteps followed. I backpedaled out of my closet, head poking out of the doorway and watched as Mikey and Frank make their way down the stairs and into my room. Mikey was struggling to balance an open binder in one arm; loose papers slipping from the pockets and flittering and floating down the remainder of the stairs, his backpack slipping of his other shoulder and knocking him off balance. Frank followed behind, eyes bright as he laughed at Mikey, with a brightly striped candy cane hanging from his lips.

I soon found myself staring.

“Jesus fuck, Frank! Help me, damn it!” Mikey screeched as his calculator slipped from the inside of his backpack and tumbled down the stairs. “Shit!”

I reluctantly tore my eyes away from Frank to raise an eyebrow at Mikey, reaching back into the closet to tug a random shirt off of a hanger and throwing it over my shoulder. I closed the door to my closet, arms crossed over my chest as they fully made their way into the room. Mikey dumped everything he was carrying on my bed, Frank following with the things he picked up along the way.

The door that the two forgot to completely close on the way down was fully pushed open, our mom’s voice filling the air in a hushed whisper. “Michael James! If I hear one more profanity fall from your mouth, I won’t be afraid to wash it out with soap!”

Mikey cringed, and Frank and I hid our laughs behind our fists.

“Now get up here quickly and help me with the snacks! The ladies will be here soon, and I need everything set up before they get here!” She finishes her sentence with the slam of the door, and I jumped at the volume.

“Christ, Mikey. You really pissed her off,” I stated, eyes drawn to watch Frank comfortably situate himself on top of my bed, legs folded underneath himself as he pulled the candy cane from his mouth; the end now a muddy color of the green, red and white stripes it used to be. He bit down on the hard candy, itty pieces sticking to his lips as he chewed.

I involuntarily licked my own lips, completely ignoring the whining and complaining from Mikey; his voice getting softer and softer, and soon the door at the top of the stairs slammed once more, and my eyes flew to the noise.

Mikey’s voice mixed in with our mom’s yelling, and I turned back to Frank who was now smiling up at me, with his lip caught between his teeth. I grinned back at him, tugging the shirt from my shoulder and pulling it over my head. I blindly made my way over to my bed, shirt not wanting to cooperate with me at all, and when I finally got it all the way on, I found myself standing right in front of Frank. He smiled around the candy cane he had stuck back in his mouth, with his hands fidgeting in his lap.

I reached down and took hold of them, entwining my fingers with his and squeezing gently. “Hi.”

He rests our hands on top of his legs, and he maneuvers the candy cane from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue, and I find myself having a tough time breathing.

Frank shakes our linked fingers when I continue staring, and I blink idly before shaking my head and kneeling down in front of him. I smile, finding it hard not to when Frank grins at me like that. The plastic still wrapped around the ‘U’ of the candy cane crinkles as it brushes against Frank’s chin, and I unwrap my fingers from his hand to reach up and pull the candy from his mouth.

“Did Mikey give you this?” I question, scooting closer on my knees so my chest is pressed up against the edge of the bed; his own knees brushing the front of my shirt. He nods as I observe the candy cane in my hand.

“And he didn’t even give you peppermint?” My mouth drops in mock horror, and his mouth scrunches together, holding in a laugh that so badly wants to escape. “Peppermint in the ideal candy cane flavor, Frankie. You can’t have a fruity flavored one; that’s just horrible. I’d give you one, but my stash is long gone.” I sigh and shake my head. Frank giggles.

I lick my lips and examine the candy cane in my hand once again, and then look back up at Frank. “Mind if I taste?”

Frank shakes his head, his smile light, and his eyes don’t go wide until my hand wraps around his lower back, careful not to get the candy on his shirt, and my nose is touching his. “Thanks.”

I tilt my head and push forward, and it takes Frank a few seconds to wrap his head around this is what I meant by my previous question, and I sighed against his lips.

This really never gets old.

I pull back slightly, enough for Frank to see me lick my lips and ‘Hmm’ in wonder. I cock my head to the side and pout my lips in thought. “Cherry?”

I’m sure I’m able to see every single one of Frank’s teeth as he grins, and my heart melts because I was the one causing him to feel that way. He shakes his head, free hand reaching out to run along the collar of my shirt, and I flinch. He stops suddenly, and I chuckle and squeeze our linked fingers. “Tickles.”

Frank laughs, and instead of one finger, he lightly drags multiple across the side of my neck, and I jerk away from his hand.

“Don’t,” I attempt to glare, but the smile won’t fall from my face, and all that does is bribe Frank into doing it again.

My head falls to the side, and I raise my shoulder up to my ear to try and keep his fingers from attacking my neck, but all he does is free his other hand and reach for the other side. I move my arm from around his middle, and Frank watches me abandon his candy cane somewhere near my knees, and he just smiles before running his fingers over my neck.

I try not to let out the high pitched laugh I felt making its way up and out of my mouth, so I did the only thing I could think of to stop him. I pushed my mouth against Frank’s, instantly halting his fingers from doing any more damage to my neck. I lift myself off of my knees, pressing my lips harder against Frank’s as I lean into him, easing him back gently to lie flat on his back.

His hands move to grip my collar, fingers curling around the fabric as he pulls me close. His legs unfold from underneath him; feet flat against the mattress, legs slightly bent at the knees. My hand moves to his hip, fingers worming their way under his shirt to rest against his skin; tracing over the top of his jeans and he sighs against my lips.

Frank’s hands move to my neck before losing his fingers in my hair, and I groan against his mouth. He pulls back immediately, and I almost whine at the loss of contact. Both of our breathing is heavy and out of sync, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss somebody as badly in my life as I looked down at Frank.

He looked worried, fingers still tied up in my hair. His lips were parted and stained red, both from what we had just been doing, and also from the fruity candy cane he had been eating earlier. I licked my lips and tightened my hand on his hip, drawing his shirt up slightly as I idly moved my hand over his stomach. Frank inhaled sharply, eyes flittering shut, and I shifted slightly to settle my leg between Frank’s; keeping myself up on my knees. I leaned down and pushed my lips to his again, free hand braced next to Frank’s head. My chest pressed against his, and the only sound filling my ears was the sound of rushed breathing out of our noses.

It was when Frank let out a small, barely audible moan against my mouth that I pulled back; eyes wide. Frank’s eyes were hazy, and his mouth was slack as he greedily sucked in oxygen. His fingers lazily moved through my hair, and he sent me sleepy smile. I groaned; low and deep in my throat, and my pants felt much, much too tight at this point.

My hand slid from Frank’s stomach back to his side, fingers gripping his hip tight as I lunge forward for another kiss, much more rushed and urgent. Taking the risk of attempting to move the kiss forward, I moved the hand resting by Frank’s head to press against his neck before I let my tongue wander and run along the seam of Frank’s mouth. His breathing hitched slightly, lips stalling quickly before responding and parting for my probing tongue.

My body shifted, pressing fully against Frank’s, and I just let myself explore his mouth. His chest was heaving, and his fingers had stopped moving in my hair as he put all of his concentration into letting his own tongue dance along with my own.

As much as I didn’t want to break up this amazing moment, I knew both of us needed air very soon, so I pulled back for a second. I let our ragged breaths mix and mingle on each others lips before pushing one last chaste kiss to his lips; lifting my body from his own to rest on my side next to him.

His fingers slipped from my hair, as my hand stayed under his shirt; resting against his side, and I let my thumb run along his hipbone. I rest my head against my outstretched arm, lips pressed against Frank’s shoulder as we both caught our breath.

“Frankie,” I mumbled, smile unable to leave my face. The same went with Frank as he tilted his head to the side, shifting his body so that he was lying on his side also. I watched a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face, and he reached up and wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Oh, Frankie.”

He sent me a shy smile, eyes dropping to my lips quickly before moving back to my eyes. He hesitated for a second before leaning in and pushing a light kiss to my lips.

I sigh as he leans back, eyes slipping shut as my lips continue to stay turned up.

Frank scoots forward, his own hand moving to rest on my own hip, and our chests rest against one another’s.

“Strawberry.”

I let one eye open to watch Frank’s eyebrows come together in confusion.

“The candy cane. It wasn’t cherry. It was strawberry.”

Frank’s face lights up and he laughs, high and light as he nods. I grin proudly. “I think I should get a reward for guessing right. What do you think, Frankie?”

Frank’s face turns a pretty shade of red as he laughs, shrugging.

“Please?” I ask, fingers running along Frank’s side, and I can feel the goose bumps rise on his skin. He nods almost distractedly, leaning in towards my smiling mouth, but Mikey’s voice was suddenly filling the room as he opened the door at the top of the stairs.

Frank jerked backwards, hand slipping from my waist as his eyes go wide.

“Yes, Mom,” Mikey’s voice is annoyed, and I can see him make his way down the first couple of stairs, upper body leaned into the kitchen.

I lean right up to Frank’s ear, arm wrapping around his middle to hold him close. “You owe me that reward later, yeah?”

Frank’s smile was nervous, but still there nonetheless, and he nodded. I pulled away and quickly moved across the room to my desk, straightening my clothes along the way.

Mikey stomps down the rest of the stairs after he slammed the door at the top of the stairs for the millionth time today.

“Did you really need to slam it that hard again? You’re just pissing her off more,” I state, taking a seat at my desk to run my finger along the side of the cage that held my, still nameless, hamster.

Mikey mimics my words, rolling his eyes as he throws himself down onto my bed, landing right where Frank and I had just been lying. I sent Frank a smirk as Mikey mumbled into my bedspread, and he hides his smile in his arms that he had wrapped around his knees that were pulled up to his chest.

“Why is she freaking out so bad again?” I asked; remembering hearing her talk about some party she was going to be throwing very soon just the other day, but couldn’t for the life of me remember what she said it was for.

My hamster moved from his spot curled up in the corner of the cage to come and stick my finger through the small bars, nose twitching slightly before he wandered off to his water bottle. I turn my attention back to Mikey as he rolls over on his back, now half draped over Frank’s feet, and he sighs dramatically.

“I don’t _know_ ,” he stresses, arm closest to Frank moving to pat him gently on the cheek. “Some stupid party with way too much food, and stupid games with stupid little gifts for people who win the stupid games. Candles and lotion and other stupid stuff.”

It hits me in the middle of Mikey’s rant what our Mom had been planning for almost a month. “It’s Carly’s baby shower today, dipshit. She’s been talking about this for a long time, don’t you remember?”

Carly was my Mom’s sister and my aunt. She was expecting her second child in the next month or so, and Hannah was so ready to finally be a big sister to whatever her mom gives birth too. She secretly told me last time she was over; New Years Eve, that she wanted a little sister so she could dress her up like she did with her Barbie dolls.

Mikey scowls and shrugs agitatedly in my direction, sitting up and glancing at the clock on my bedside table. “Whatever, fuck.”

He shifts so he’s sitting next to Frank; both of their backs pressed up against my pillows, and he pulls the binder he was having trouble carrying down the stairs earlier into his lap. “She’s making me finish my homework before she lets me leave, and I really don’t want to sit around and deal with everyone who’s going to be here. Remember her last baby shower Mom put together for when Hannah was going to be born? We sat around and watched the video of [i]my[/i] birth, Gerard. I am not reliving that ever again in my life. Ever.”

Frank snorted, and couldn’t hold back the loud, girlish giggles that escaped his mouth as he tipped over to lie on his side.

“Shut up!” Mikey whined, bringing the binder down on Frank’s hip, and when that failed to actually shut up his laughter, he dug his fingers into the spot right below Frank’s underarm on his side. Frank’s giggles stuttered and he squirmed away from Mikey’s fingers, ending up slithering to the opposite side of the bed, and almost falling off the end.

I smirked to myself as Mikey revealed Frank’s ticklish spot, as he had found mine earlier. I would so be using that in the future.

“Chill out, dude,” I laughed as Mikey glared down at Frank, retreating slightly to grab for his forgotten binder. Mikey had only been eleven when we watched the horrid video, and I don’t blame him for not wanting to watch it again, because I knew my Mom would end up breaking it out again.

I thank whoever was supposed to tape my birth, but forgot to actually record anything. I don’t think I’d be able to live through that.

Frank’s face is red when he sits back up, breathing labored from trying to escape Mikey’s attack, and he notices me smiling at him. He bites his lip and smiles back as Mikey digs around in his backpack for a pencil, muttering under his breath. I involuntarily frown, making sure Mikey’s occupied enough so he won’t notice, and I point to my lips and then back at him. I pout as he grins, sagging my shoulders, because I really wanted to kiss Frank again. It was starting to be my new favorite thing to do, and with Mikey in the room, I couldn’t do as I pleased.

Frank clicked his lip ring against his teeth, quickly glancing at Mikey still fighting with his bag, before pushing himself from my bed and moving across the room. When he reached me, he let his hand run across my stomach. My breathing hitched, and I watched him glance up at me from under the hair that fell into his eyes.

Mikey ‘Aha’d from his spot on my bed, finding what he was looking for in his bag, and Frank’s hand quickly retreated. He turned his attention to the hamster in the cage behind me, so I turned around to slide off the cover, pulling the squeaking animal from his hiding place behind his running wheel.

“I still don’t have a name for this guy,” I say, striking up conversation to make it look that that’s what had been the reason for Frank to venture over here. The small ball of fur was full of energy, and I could barely keep him from falling from my hand as I tried to put the cover back on the cage. Frank scooped him from my hand, letting our fingers touch longer than necessary, and cradled the little guy in both of his hands.

“Careful,” I warn, snapping the lid back into place and grabbing for the plastic ball for the hamster to run around freely in my room with. “He’s all nice for a while, and then sometimes, for no reason at all will bite me.”

“Name him asshole, then,” Mikey laughs, shaking his head down at the paper he’s scribbling on.

“Yeah, how about no,” I state, running my finger over the stripe across the hamster’s head.

Mikey shrugs.

One of Frank’s hands jerks away from the hamster perched in his other as he narrowly misses getting bitten. “See!” I proclaim, grabbing the animal from Frank and putting him in the colored ball so he could run around the room. “He’s evil.”

Frank is wiping the palms of his hands on his pants when he freezes, eyes lighting up to match his smile, and he turns to move back over to the bed. He snatches the pencil Mikey took so long to find, ignoring the protests, and grabbed my sketchbook still sitting on my bedside table. He flips to a clean page, and I move over to investigate.

He writes quickly; sketchbook tucked between his arm and chest as he scribbles.

Mikey snatches the pencil back when Frank holds it out to him, and my eyes go wide as I laugh at the name Frank wrote at the top of the page.

“Oh my god, yes,” I set my hand in the small of Frank’s back, leaning my head on his shoulder, taking a huge breath to ‘compose myself’. It was more for my own benefit at this point, because Frank kept pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, and it was driving me absolutely crazy.

“Nothing could beat asshole, so I don’t see why you’re agreeing to another name,” Mikey declares, flipping his binder shut and pulling out a bright blue notebook filled with loose papers.

My hand moves to wrap all the way around Frank’s back, settling on his hip, and I pull him against me as I grin. “Frankie’s a genius, but you won’t appreciate it.”

He raises an eyebrow in our direction, and I inwardly sigh as he brushes off how close we were standing to each other. “If he wrote down Spongebob or some shit, you’re right.”

“Close, but no cigar my dear brother!” I cheer, tossing the sketchbook in the general direction of his lap, and leaning down to pick up the newly named hamster as he rolled by in his ball; arm around Frank slipping slightly, and I almost laugh out loud at Frank’s expression as my hand brushes his butt.

I straighten up, moving my arm to wrap around Frank’s shoulders, quickly pressing my lips to the side of his head as Mikey’s eyes are distracted by the sketchbook in his lap. Frank shyly smiles back up at me, his face burning red.

“Mikey, meet—”

“Plankton? Who the fuck is Plankton?”

Frank laughs out loud, unfortunately slipping from my grip as he moves to lean over Mikey and grab my pajama pants lying up by my pillows. Amongst the cast of characters on my Spongebob pants was the little green, evil Plankton that my hamster was now named after. Frank pointed him out, and Mikey groaned.

“God, you guys are so stupid.”

++

“Gerard!”

My legs are soon wrapped up in a squealing Hannah, bright eyes staring up at me from behind brown, wispy hair. I grin, reaching down to pull her up into my arms.

“Anna love. I missed you so,” I twirl her around the kitchen, her laughter filling the room. She always smiled bigger, and laughed louder when I called her by the nickname I’d given her when she was little.

I prop her against my hip, her little legs wrapping around my middle. She’s wearing little blue jeans with a bright pink shirt that has ‘I’m the big sister!’ written in large black letters across the front. I laugh, tugging on the pink fabric. “Did Aunt Donna get you this?”

Hannah grins and nods. “She got it because I’m gonna be a good big sister, Gerard!”

I smiled, knowing my Mom would be the one to buy her something like this, as she wraps her small arms around my neck, chin resting on my shoulder as she squeezes tight. I hug back just as enthusiastically. “I know you will be, Anna love. You’re going to be the best big sister ever.”

Hannah pulls her head back, arms still wrapped around my neck, and presses her forehead against mine. “I’m gonna have a little sister, Gerard, I know it.”

“You do, do you?” I laugh, moving to join Frank, Mikey and the rest of the guests in the living room. She nods, face completely serious.

“Boys are icky. Except you and Mikey,” Hannah points out as we enter the room, loud conversation cutting right into her sentence. She leans close so her lips are right next to my ear. “Frank too. He’s not icky.”

I chuckle, glancing up to watch Carly and my Mom talk with Mikey and Frank, who actually seemed to look comfortable and at ease. “No, he isn’t.”

++

“I thought we were never going to get out of there!” Mikey shouts dramatically when he falls into the passenger seat of my car, careful not to shout it outside, for guests were still arriving.

I glace back at Frank in the backseat, wrapped up in his newest sweatshirt, and we roll our eyes at Mikey’s immaturity.

“It wasn’t even that bad, Mikey. You know you wanted to stay,” I chuckled as I started the car and pulled away from the curb. Luckily my Mom had moved my car this morning, or else we would have really been trapped in the driveway, surrounded by the guest’s cars. “Ms. Webber brought her daughter, dude. You totally loved her back when you were in the fifth grade. And good thing for you! It doesn’t look like she could beat you up anymore.”

Mikey splutters and tries to throw out insults, but all that comes from his mouth are angry puffs of air.

Frank snorts from the back seat, and Mikey reaches back to slap his leg. “Fuck off. I never liked her, ever.”

“Oh please, little brother,” I laugh, digging into my jacket pocket for my pack of cigarettes, shaking one to the top of the pack so that I could pluck it out with my lips. I turn around to face Frank as we stop at a red light, and I take the unlit cigarette from my mouth to talk. “He came home one night so thrilled because he got his first kiss from one Wendy Webber. She pushed him down the slide at the playground and he knocked his head on the ground when he landed. It was the only way she could get him to hold still long enough to plant one on him.”

“She was bigger than me,” Mikey whimpered and sank lower in his seat as Frank cackled from the backseat. I grinned back at him, winking when he bit his lip, and turned back to the road.

“If we’re done humiliating me,” Mikey huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you tell us where we’re going?”

I crack my window, lighting the cigarette I set between my lips again and inhaling deeply. “Well, I’m hoping Ray is home so we can go bother him. If not, that’s the only plan I had.” I blow the smoke out of my mouth and watch it float to the opening in the window to disappear.

Mikey perks up and grins. “Alright! I’ve never been to Toro’s yet. Need to so I can break something and piss him off.”

I laugh, resting the burning cigarette between my lips as I turn onto the highway for the short drive to Ray’s. “And you wonder why he’s never invited you over before?”

“I’m obnoxious and talk too much?” Mikey wonders aloud.

Frank claps from the backseat, and I choke on the smoke I’d just inhaled.

“I’m glad you agree. At least I know I’m occasionally obnoxious—”

“Occasionally?”

“--fuck you, and that _sometimes_ I talk too much, but that’s okay. I know you guys still love me,” Mikey smiles over at me as I look over in his direction to change lanes to exit the highway.

I laugh along with Frank. “That’s exactly it.”

Ray’s apartment is only about a five-minute drive after exiting the freeway, and Mikey talks the entire time, just to prove the point that we won’t murder him for doing so.

I end up finishing my cigarette and lighting another before we even arrive because I kind of want to push him out the door, but refrain.

We park across the street from his apartment, and I stay put in the car, hand reaching in the backseat to stop Frank from exiting as well. I nod in the direction of Mikey, who’s still going on and on about stuff we don’t care about, and Frank raises his eyebrows. Mikey unclips his seatbelt and opens the car and his voice stops the second his feet sink into the giant puddle I’d purposely parked next to.

“Oh, you asshole!”

++

“I’m going to catch hypothermia, and its gonna be all your fault,” Mikey drones on as we trudge up the flight of stairs and to room **A23**.

“Quit whining. If you would have been paying attention and stopped talking for three seconds, you would have saw the puddle and skillfully avoided it,” I smirk, stopping in front of Ray’s door. Mikey blows off what I said, smiling as he steps up to the door and begins pounding with both fists.

I step behind him and slide up to Frank, wrapping an arm around his waist and pushing my face into his neck. I press my lips there, inhaling that intoxicating Frank scent, and pull back with a smile. He grins; hand resting on the small of my back as he quickly leans up to press his lips against my cheek.

Mikey’s pounding ceases when Ray’s loud, booming voice is able to overpower it.

“Who the _fuck_ is being so _fucking_ obnoxious?!”

I unfortunately am forced to step away from Frank with a small frown right as Ray whips open his door; his face flustered and glare set in place.

I grin sheepishly at him when he makes eye contact with me. “Surprise?”

Mikey slips right past Ray to venture on his own through the apartment, and Ray sighs. “There’s a reason I’ve never invited Mikey to my apartment before, Gerard.”

I shrug halfheartedly, tugging on Frank’s wrist as I follow Ray inside to inspect the damages Mikey may have already done.

I step into the threshold, but Frank isn’t following. I turn back to the boy behind me, and frown. “Come on inside. When Ray gets angry at Mikey, it’s hilarious.”

Frank looked down at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the hideous orange-y carpet lining the hall. He tugged lightly on my hand, stepping close enough to set it on his hip.

I realize our situation, and that this might be the only time for the rest of the day that we are without the presence of Mikey or Ray, and I use my free hand to quietly pull the door closed behind me. I scan down the hall quickly, and when there wasn’t anyone in sight, I wrapped both of my arms around Frank’s middle and pulled him against me. I leaned my back against the wall and grinned down at Frank as he cautiously let his hands slide up to rest on either side of my neck; fingers linking together behind my neck. He bites his lip nervously, taking a look himself down the long hallway before raising himself on his tiptoes to crash his mouth to mine.

My eyes fluttered shut and I waited for Frank to completely take initiative and lead the kiss, which only took a few seconds as he realized we only had limited time alone.

His lips were careful and just plain _wonderful_ , and I groaned low in my throat when I felt his tongue tentatively brush against my lips. The sweatshirt Frank was wearing was too bulky, and his hips were hidden beneath too much fabric, and that just couldn’t happen right now. I let my own tongue wrap around Frank’s; kiss rushed and just a little messy, as we knew we really didn’t have the time. My fingers slipped under his sweatshirt and thin t-shirt, and finally brushed against his warm skin.

Frank shivered as I pulled all of the material that was in my way up, and let my hands run all the way around his waist; just _skin_ and Frank’s whimpers.

Frank’s fingers were massaging the back of my neck, his chest rumbling as he groaned; my own fingers digging into his hips as our kissing became more frantic.

The sound of breaking glass, followed by Ray’s bellow and Mikey’s high pitched ‘Whoops?’ halted every wonderful thing Frank had been doing, and it was my turn to whimper.

“Let’s just,” I swallow, pushing my face into Frank’s neck to press open mouthed kisses right below his ear. “Go. Let’s just go. Go somewhere not here.” I chuckle, breathing heavy.

Frank laughs, choking slightly when I begin to nibble gently on the side of his neck. His breathing speeds up even more than it already was, and I stop to move my mouth to his ear. “Can I-- Is it okay if I do that?”

Frank swallows hard, and nods instantly. I push my smile into his neck.

“Holy shit! Ray! Your apartment has a hot tub?!” Mikey shouts from inside the apartment, and I perk up.

“Yes,” I can hear Ray stress. “And if it will chill you the fuck out, that’s where we’re going. Right now.”

I grin down at Frank. “Please. _Please_ tell me you’re not afraid of water or have a crazy hot tub fear, because if you did, I think I’m going to die.”

Frank’s lips turn up into a smile, and he shakes his head.

I tug him into the apartment and find Ray and Mikey standing in the living room area, picture frame lying in pieces on the floor.

I carefully avoid stepping on any pieces of glass, speaking almost hurriedly.

“Hot tub you say?”


	19. Frank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I started this story 7 long years ago..  
> Chapter 19 was written 3 years ago, and nothing else has been written for it since. I'm not sure exactly when or if I will continue writing this at all, but hopefully one day I will.

January 16th, 2000   
**_Friday; night_ **

The tennis ball bounced off the hardwood door and Princess barked from the other side of the door. I waited a couple seconds until she quieted down before I threw the ball off the door again; her nails scraping against the hardwood floor.

“Frank!”

My Mom’s voice rang out from her room next door, and I glanced over at my clock to see that it was almost midnight as I heard her bedroom door open and shut. Princess barked again and then my own door was swinging open.

I roll the tennis ball in my hand and glance up at my Mom innocently. Princess bolts to join me on my bed, growling and trying to wrestle the ball from me. I turn my attention to my puppy, wincing slightly when she catches my finger instead of the ball.

“Frank, it’s almost midnight. I’m trying to get some rest, so you need to stop with the tennis ball, alright?” She crossed her arms over her chest as I shrug childishly. She sighs and rubs at her temples. I knew I was acting like a four year old, but being stuck in your room for two days straight can really get to a guy.

Rarely in my life has my Mom ever grounded me, and over all the things that she’s gotten mad at me for; piercing my lip, piercing my nose, or even that time she thought that I had run away after a fight we had and I had only stormed off to Mikey’s without consulting with her, I never got grounded for any of those things; just a stern talking to.

But now on this Friday night when I was supposed to be over at Mikey and Gerard’s, enjoying our movie night, I sat in my room, playing with my puppy and silently cussing out mother nature for giving me this cold.

I guess I could have saved myself from this punishment if I hadn’t went and erased the message that Principal Anderson had left on our answering machine before my Mom had a chance to listen to it. I didn’t think it was such a big deal until the school called my house when my Mom was actually home and questioned her why she didn’t call back like the message had said to do.

She just gave me that ‘look’ when she made me sit across from her in the kitchen as she sat on the phone with Principal Anderson yesterday after school. The ‘look’ that made you feel bad because you know you messed up without meaning to, because I hadn’t done anything wrong at school. I told her that after she got off the phone twenty minutes after listening to my Principal babble on about consequences and discipline.

My Mom went on to tell me she was disappointed in the fact that I tried to hide it from her rather than telling her what went on. She went to question me on why I had been so distracted in class and got myself sent out, and all I did was shrug and tell her I was having an off day. The punishment went from a full week to just the weekend, which helped a bit, but it still meant that I wouldn’t be able to see Mikey until school on Monday, and most likely Monday night to see Gerard.

My Mom just sighed again before quietly saying, “Goodnight, Frank”, before shutting the door softly behind her.

I sighed myself as I let Princess steal the ball from my hand, slobbering it up as she growled quietly. I ran my hand down her back, almost sad at how fast she has grown in such a short time, before pushing myself up and over to my desk. My computer hummed as I bumped the mouse and woke it back up from when I had been on it earlier. I sat in my chair, spinning from side to side as I gazed up at the screen at the one rectangular box occupying the desktop.

MSN showed that Mikey was in fact still offline, and when I looked down at the digital clock in the bottom corner of the screen; it read 11:44 PM. I huffed before I reached up and signed out of the messenger, knowing full well Mikey wouldn’t be able to make it back on the computer at this time of night.

Princess sneezed lightly from her spot at the end of my bed, and I couldn’t help but smile over at her as she stared at me with tired eyes. “Should we go to bed, baby girl?”

Princess yawns; little noises falling from her mouth, as she stands up to stretch slightly before moving up the bed and making herself comfortable against my pillow. I laugh, and push myself up from the chair to move over by my door and flick the lights off. I pull off my jeans and shirt, tossing them both into the laundry basket next to my desk before slipping on the long sleeved shirt lying on my computer chair; my room colder than usual. I made my way back to my bed, trying to avoid bumping Princess, but all she does is scurry down to the end of the bed again as I move around under the covers. I pat the open space I left for her, and she scampers up the bed, tripping over my outstretched legs before curling herself against my chest. I drape my arm over her growing body, scratching behind her ears quickly before getting comfortable myself.

I let out a long breath to just relax into my mattress and let my eyes slip shut, but they didn’t stay closed for long. The light chime that I had learned over the last couple of days signaled a new text message filled my room, and I reached out to my bedside table to grab my phone.

After my Mom had grounded me, she went out and bought the both of us cheap cell phones so she would be able to keep track of me all of the time. Or if another incident like the last came up, and I couldn’t get a hold of her at work or home, I could text her. I found it both kind of annoying, because my Mom insisted on practicing her texting skills the rest of the day, and my phone wouldn’t stop ringing as she laughed from the other room. I also found it amazing, because Mikey had taken Gerard’s cell phone and texted me all night on Thursday, and then the next day I found new messages from Gerard himself when I woke up.

I flipped open my phone, the harsh light blinding me slightly before I was grinning when I saw the message was from Gerard.

_:) hey_

I pushed my smile into Princess’ soft fur and placed a kiss to the top of her head. “Gerard’s texting me, Princess,” I said, grinning widely. “God, I am such a girl.”

Princess snuffled, and squirmed closer to my chest, apparently not as excited as I was. I scratched behind her ears quickly before turning my attention back to my phone, smiling at the message once more. As my thumb hovered over the reply button, the phone chimed again.

_im sorry if i woke you up_

I typed as quickly as I could, needing to delete and re-type half of my words because my stomach was swirling and it made my fingers shake. It was a bit ridiculous how this boy made me feel sometimes.

_no im up :)_

I reached over the now sleeping Princess to my bedside table again to click on my lamp and sit up in bed, just staring down at my open phone; waiting for it to chime again.

Princess huffed as I continued to shift, and if dogs could, angrily trotted down to the end of my bed; small paws digging at the end of the blanket to make her own bed before she circled around the pile of cloth a few times and finally made herself comfortable again. She breathed out evenly; her ears twitching out in annoyance when the sound of my phone filled my room.

“Sorry, Princess,” I murmured through my ridiculously wide grin. I couldn’t help it, no matter how bad I felt for rustling up my puppy as she tried to sleep, texting Gerard was far too important.

_for two long days, ive missed your face_

My heart sped up, and I could feel my face turn bright red at his words. I actually laugh; giggle is more like it, before hitting reply.

I contemplate typing back ‘same here’, but then thought it was a bit lame, and quickly deleted it to let my thumbs rest against the keypad. I was really thinking that ‘two days is truly much too long for us to be away from one another!’, but figured that is way to dramatic, no matter how true I felt that statement was. I sat there thinking of a proper response, but before I could even think of another cheesy thing to type, my phone chimed again.

_how was your day?_

_good._ I type back. _pretty boring, and i wish i was over hanging out with you guys_

Although it was only about thirty seconds, it felt like an eternity before my phone finally chimed yet again. Butterflies were all I could feel as I read the new words he had sent to me.

_mikey fell asleep 2 hrs ago watchin tv. hes been lying to us_

I raised an eyebrow at his words.

_how so?_ I type back, eagerly awaiting his reply.

_when i walked in he had been watchin spongebob before falling asleep_

I laugh out loud, because I knew that at some point Mikey would cave to watching the show after having to sit around and watch both his brother and I talk it up. I was so deep in my laughter, I almost failed to hear my phone ding again.

Almost.

_when can i see you again?_

I let out a shaky sigh, and slowly type back because I really hated what I had to tell him.

_probably not until monday unless my mom lets me free before then…_

It took a little while for him to reply again, and when he did, I felt my heart begin to hurt.

_:(_ was his simple reply, and I couldn’t help but sport an unhappy face identical to the one he had sent me.

I smile sadly, and try to hold back the yawn that works its way out of my mouth. Princess has her eyes open when I look down at her, but pushes herself up from her comfortable position to face away from me when my phone goes off again. I laugh.

_the moon is pretty amazing tonight. you should go look._

I flip my blanket off of my lap, and struggle to free my feet as they get tangled up in the sheets, and move across the room to pull open the curtain.

The shadow in the middle of my lawn was the first thing I spotted rather than the bright and bold moon that hovered high up in the sky. Hesitantly, I wiped away the fog-covered window with the cuff of my shirt, as my eyes grew larger than they already were. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

My window lock was jammed, and after a few incessant hits with my palm, it slid free and I pulled the window up. The cold air blew into my room causing me to shiver, but the voice of the shadow that had now moved across the rest of my lawn and up to my window distracted me from the freezing temperature.

“Surprise?”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I leaned down to rest my forearms on the windowsill. Gerard had a grey hat pulled over his head, tugged down his forehead so the tips of his hair brushed his eyelashes. He was grinning, shoulders pulled up in a shrug. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his button-less jacket, which he pulled around his body tighter. He laughed; a long white puff of air falling from his mouth, as the little bit of snow left of the ground crunched under his feet as he stepped closer to the window.

“Come out with me?”

I bit my lip and glanced back over my shoulder in the direction of my Mom’s room, and turned back to Gerard’s nose pressed against the screen. I giggle lightly and cover my mouth as he pouts and pulls his hands from his pockets to press against the screen. His gloves were the same shade of grey as his hat, and my stomach did a little flip when I watched him stick out his lower lip and whisper a small “Please, Frankie?”

I nod automatically, my grin matching his when I step back from the window to pull the jeans I had been wearing earlier from my laundry basket along with Gerard’s sweatshirt that I had yet to give back to him. Princess watches me from my bed; face buried in her paws, but doesn’t move an inch as I run around my room. I yank my jean jacket from its hanger in my closet and pull it on, running a hand through my hair as Gerard watches me from the window. He’s smiling, and his nose is red from the cold, and I really can’t do anything but smile back.

My shoes were out by the front door, but I didn’t want to risk my Mom waking up as I tried to sneak out. I dig around the bottom of my closet for the pair of Vans I had hiding in the mass of junk. They were a size too small, but they would work nonetheless. I push the closet door shut; making sure that my bedroom door is locked in case my Mom thought of barging her way in at any point in the night, and turned to pat Princess on the head.

“Be good,” I want to tell her, but because Gerard was right outside of the window, all I can do is drop a kiss to the top of her head. I look back at her as if to say, “And don’t pee on my bed, please and thank you.”

“Frankie,” Gerard laughs my name, his voice almost whimsical as he tapped his finger on the screen. “Come on.”

I dig around for my phone which was buried in the mass of blankets, and slip it into my jacket pocket before moving over toward the window.

I reach for the bottom corners of the screen, pulling at the small plastic pieces to free the screen from the window frame, as Gerard takes a hold of the edges and lowers it to the ground.

“Hi,” he breathes up at me, teeth gleaming a bright white against the dark night. He reaches a hand up and I take it gratefully, easing myself up onto the windowsill, feet hanging down, and Gerard reaches up with his free hand to rest on my waist to help me down.

I may or may not have accidentally lost my balance when I dropped to the ground, pushing myself right up against Gerard for support, but overall it earned me a grin and both of his arms wrapped around my waist in a welcoming hug.

His nose was freezing against my neck, and I flinched away when he pushed it against my collarbone. The hot puff of air he laughed out afterwards warmed me up plenty enough for it to be okay.

Gerard pulled back, pressing his hat covered forehead against my own for a few seconds before moving back to reach up and pull my window closed enough so that I would be able to push it back open later.

“Come on,” Gerard smiled, reaching for my hand as he pulls me across the lawn. I pause my walking for a split second when we reach the sidewalk, scanning down the street for the familiar car I usually see Gerard driving.

“No car tonight,” Gerard lightly tugs on my hand again and giggles lightly at me when I raise my eyebrow at him. “I didn’t lie about the moon tonight, Frankie. I want you to see it with me.”

I grin, and Gerard slides his cotton-covered fingers between my own.

***

The elementary and middle schools were just a few blocks from my house, in the opposite direction of Gerard’s house. The elementary school had a park that was fenced-in next to the parking lot in the back, and our footsteps echoed off the cement of the school buildings as we walked through the lot. The wind picked up as we dragged our feet through the few inches of snow that was still left on the ground. The cold felt like it soaked right into my jacket and chilled me to the bone.

Gerard squeezed my hand, and apologized; like it was his fault that it was freezing outside, and tucked my hand that he was holding into his jacket pocket before wrapping his own around my middle. I smile and kept my eyes down as I watched my feet walk alongside Gerard’s, and when I take my hand from his pocket tucked between us to wrap around his waist to stick in his other, I try to avoid stepping on his feet as we walk closer together.

We reached the edge of the parking lot, the bright moon shining off of the metal of the playground equipment fenced up at the top of the hill. Gerard grins down at me, and motions with his head in the direction of the playground. “You like swings?”

I smiled brightly and nodded; enjoying the squeeze Gerard gives me before taking off up the hill in a jog. I laugh and take off after him, only slipping a couple times up the snowy hill before I push through the open gate.

With the moon being the only source of light, it’s hard for me to see Gerard’s figure, but the sound of snow crunching under his feet give away his location. Walking towards the noise, I’m able to see Gerard perched on one of the chain-linked swings. I laugh and lean myself against the cold metal of the swing set as I watch Gerard pump his legs, swinging higher and higher.

“Swing, Frankie,” Gerard chuckles, and there is an obvious grin in his voice. I perch myself on the swing next to him, but keep my frozen fingers tucked away in my jacket pockets.

Gerard’s swinging slows down after a few minutes as he digs his feet into the snow below him to stop his motions. He’s smiling but I can see his teeth chattering before he brings his gloved hands to his face. “My face is so cold.”

Our swings are close enough for Gerard to reach out to me and I slip my own hand out of my pocket to take hold of his. He rests my hand against his cheek, and I curl my hand into a fist to brush my knuckles against his face. Gerard frowns and quickly reaches up to cup my hand between his gloved ones. “Shit, Frankie,” he sighs sadly. “Your hands are freezing.”

My hand tingles as Gerard rubs it with his cotton covered hands, the friction slowly warming my hand from its icy cold state. I shrug lightly as to not make Gerard worry, but his eyebrows stay knitted together.

Gerard shakes his head sadly. “You were just sick, and this weather isn’t going to help you get any better,” he sighed, glancing at me sadly. “I’m sorry, Frankie, I shouldn’t have brought you out here.”

I’m shaking my head, mouthing the word “No” in Gerard’s direction before he’s even done speaking. I hadn’t seen Gerard since Tuesday, three of the longest days I’ve experienced in a long while, and I wasn’t going to let some stupid little cold stop me from seeing him.

I stop shaking my head when Gerard sighs lightly, defeated, but smiles nonetheless. “Missed you.”

The smile that slides across my face is immediate and uncontrollable, and I wish nothing more than to say the same back to him. My face blooms a bright shade of red and is a contrast of heat compared to the cold temperature outside. I shiver and nod, because that’s all I can do.

Gerard still has my hand between his own, but quickly raises one to reach behind my head and pull up my hood. My ears tingle the same way my hands did when the fabric of my hoodie presses against them, and I then realize how cold they had actually become. He tugs my hand gently before motioning with his free hand as if he wanted a hug; arms spread wide with a slight smile on his face.

I laugh and stand from my own swing, hand dropping from Gerard’s before I was being pulled down into his lap. His arms immediately wrap around my waist and he pushes his cold nose into my neck, murmuring about the temperature and then laughing puffs of warm air onto my cheek. My toes barely touch the ground as I sit sideways on Gerard’s lap. I loop my arm around his neck even though I know his arms will keep me safe from slipping anywhere.

Gerard’s feet continue to move along the ground to keep the swing swaying, and his arms tighten around me every time our swing inclines even a bit. I smile to the side of his hat-covered head, his face still pressed to my neck.

The trees rustle behind us and I can hear an occasional car pass on the road out in front of the school. I’m so used to silence; so used to not hearing my own voice. I hadn’t heard Gerard’s in days and I had missed it enough to almost want to plead to hear him speak again.

With the arm wrapped around his neck, I reach up to quickly snag off Gerard’s hat. He gasps and moves back from my neck, hair askew, lips pursed and eyes set in a mock-glare. “Excuse me, it seems as if you’ve stolen my hat.”

I raise my free hand to my chest and with a surprised look, mouth, “Me?”, before shaking my head, “Never.”

Gerard’s glare falters slightly, before his lips slowly slide into a smirk. “Really now?” The hat slips from my grasp, landing with the quietest sound to the silent air, and I show both hands to prove my point. Gerard’s eyebrow raises and he shakes his head and sighs. “You made me do this.”

My high-pitched yelp fills the night air as one of Gerard’s arms leaves my waist to loop under my knees, and he shoots up off the swing in a split second. My arms instinctively go back around his neck, and he begins spinning in circles, shouting about revenge and punishment for stealing his things. The laughs spill from my mouth and I try to contain them against Gerard’s neck, but they start to become uncontrollable the faster Gerard spins.

His movements become slow and unstable after awhile, and his vocals die down right along with my laughter before he stops moving altogether. I hear him whisper a, “So dizzy” before he drops heavily to his knees in the snow covered sand of the playground. I burst out laughing once again. Gerard lets my legs drop to the ground and uses his freed arm to loosen my hold around his neck. He slowly lowers me all the way to the ground, his mock-glare back in place, before he hovers over me with a stern finger. “Where’s the hat, Iero?”

I cover my mouth with one of my arms in attempts to stop the laughing before I shrug. Gerard’s eyes glance back over at the swings; the two of us now being a good few feet away from them after our spinning epidemic. He moves to stand and reclaim back his stolen hat, but before he could, I quickly reach out to grip the sleeve of his coat to attempt to stop him but he’s quicker than me.

I let myself rest against the snow covered ground as his triumphant laugh soon follows his breakaway. The snow melts under me and the cold seems to seep through my jeans. I shiver and frown up at Gerard when he returns to me, hat in hand. He grins and sticks his tongue out at me. “I win.”

I roll my eyes, but my frown soon turns to a smile. I couldn’t help it; Gerard seems to have that effect on me.

Gerard’s triumphant grin stays planted on his face, even as he kneels back down next to me in the cold snow. I wait for him to slip on his newly reclaimed hat, but instead he reaches out a hand and tugs me up until I’m sitting next to him. His smile is contagious, and we both have full-blown grins as he slips the hat over my head since my hood had flown off during our earlier activity.

A gust of wind moves to blow Gerard off balance on his knees and I laugh lightly as he waivers a bit. He goes to bring back his mock-glare, but falters as I tremble at the freezing wind.

“Frankie…” Gerard breathed out, his earlier concern for my health becoming apparent once again.

I shake my head and wave a hand as if to say, “I’m fine, really”, but my body decides it was an all right time for my ongoing cold to make an appearance, as I try to hide my sneeze in my sleeve.

“I should take you home,” Gerard frowns, reaching over to brush his hand across my cheek, but I stubbornly shake my head. I was fine and I didn’t want to go home because I knew there was a big chance that I wasn’t going to see him for another two days. His eyes cast down at the ground and it takes a few seconds for him to look back up at me. His eyes are sad and so is his smile, and my heart beats just a bit faster knowing he’s only saying these things because he cares about me.

“I don’t want you to be sick anymore, Frankie. Being out here with me isn’t going to help at all, you know that.”

I push myself up onto my knees along with Gerard as I try to plead with my eyes that I’d much rather stay out here with him, even if I was suffering with sickness or not. His sad smile fades and he reaches up to brush my bangs out of my eyes, and I know I’m loosing the battle when he sighs and moves to stand.

Actions speak louder than words, and they ring even louder when words can’t be spoken. I reach to grab the front of Gerard’s jacket with both hands, tugging almost too roughly with Gerard off balance as he moved to stand. He wavers forward as I drag him backwards, and he stutters my name as he completely loses balance and crashes into me, sending me sprawling out on my back. I let out a groan as Gerard lands completely on top of me on the cold ground, and not a second later was he apologizing for squishing me.

“Fuck, Frankie, I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed, moving to sit up to examine me. “Shit, did you hit your head? How‘s your side? Are you okay?”

I reach out to grip his shoulders to keep him in place, and grin at him. I’d truthfully forgotten all about my wipeout while we were sled-riding the other day; Gerard had this way of making me forget about everything that was bothering me.

“Frankie, what-”

It takes a few seconds for me to build up the courage, but before Gerard went off on another tangent of saying that he was sorry, my hands moved to grip the sides of his neck as I pulled him down to meet my lips. Gerard freezes for a split second before moving to arrange his body so that he wasn’t crushing me. One of his gloved hands moved to cup my cheek, and I opened my mouth under his as he quickly deepened our kiss.

We hadn’t been alone with each other without the presence of Mikey since we’d kissed in the hall of Ray’s apartment- almost an entire week. The urgency behind the way Gerard kissed me now, in the middle of the playground, I could relate to because I had missed this like nothing before.

The wind decided to be cruel once more and sent a gust blowing past us, and I heard Gerard whine against my mouth as his lips slowed. He shuddered against me as he pulled away. “Fuck that wind, seriously.”

I grin, letting my fingers slip down his neck until he flinched away because I knew that was where he was the most ticklish. He smiles down at me and I allow him to pull me up into a sitting position without any complaint; my back now soaked through from the snow.

Gerard sits closer than he was before and as he reaches out to tug his hat further over my ears, I see his teeth chattering and I frown. He pauses, hands frozen at the edges of my hat. “What’s wrong?”

I move my hand from his neck to his chin, where it quivers as I watch the muscles in his jaw tighten as he tries to keep his teeth from chattering. My frown deepens.

“I’m alright,” he smiles, moving to lay his cotton-covered hand over mine, moving it so that it’s resting against his cheek rather than his chin. He shifts forward, bumping his nose against my own, and I feel his warm breath against my lips. “You make me feel amazing, Frankie. I just want you to know that.”

My breathing comes shakily as I wait for him to close the rest of the gap between our lips. Seconds feel like hours, as Gerard pulls back a bit and we lock eyes. “Okay?”

I realize he wants me to comprehend when he’d said just a few seconds ago, and I nod quickly in understanding. I want to say I feel the same, that he makes me feel feelings I didn’t know existed, but I can’t, so I try to say all of those words with the kiss I press to his lips.

He smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story over FIVE YEARS AGO. It's over on Mibba as well, but I'm bringing it back over here! Let me know what you think, this is my baby and hope that others enjoy it as much as I do. 
> 
> Dedicated to Lizzy cause she's amazing and this story wouldn't even still be alive if it wasn't for her!  
> <3


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